


The Assignment

by shadowsfan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cold War, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Slow Burn, mission impossible au, spy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 61,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7717333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsfan/pseuds/shadowsfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As head of the Impossible Missions Force, Stannis Baratheon thought that his current assignment was relatively straightforward.  Track down an arms dealer behind the Iron Curtain and put a stop to his threat to sell crude tritium ─ a substance that could be used to make a radioactive dirty bomb ─ to a criminal organization in West Berlin.  Stannis would pose as the head of the German crime syndicate.  The contact inside Belarus was Petyr Baelish, a double agent who had been recruited a decade ago.  What Stannis hadn’t counted on was that Baelish would enlist his beautiful niece, Alayne, to pose as Stannis’ mistress.  When she secretly asks for his help, Stannis doesn’t know whether or not to trust Alayne, even as he begins to develop feelings for her which might jeopardize the mission and the lives of his team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank [Vana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/works) and [Commasplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Commasplice/works) for looking this over and for their encouragement. This is the longest fic I've written to date, and it was challenging but fun. It will get explicit, but not for several chapters. This fic is plot heavy and inspired by episodes of Mission Impossible, the original TV show and not the later films. I hope you enjoy! I intend to post a chapter every two to three days. It is not quite finished but I have 40000 words and the last few chapters are mapped out.

 

**September 14th, 1965 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

“May I have this dance, Alaynena Petrova?”

 

“Why of course, Comrade Slynt.  The honor is mine.  Although I prefer to be called by my given name, Alayne Stone.  Comrade Baelish isn’t actually my uncle.  I was adopted.” 

 

“If you insist,” Slynt replied distractedly.  The way he kept stealing glances at her breasts indicated that he wasn’t interested in her parentage.

 

Alayne offered her hand and her most charming smile.  She forced herself to ignore her distaste for the older man, who smelled faintly of garlic and fennel, like an overripe sausage, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.  She choked back a squeal of surprise when he roughly pulled her body against his, one hand dangerously close to inappropriate territory on her backside.  She reminded herself that Petyr considered Janos Slynt an important man.  He’d recently been promoted from the city police to the Ministry of Internal Affairs and was now in a position to benefit Petyr Baelish’s business interests ─ something to do with permits and protection.  Alayne had been instructed by her guardian to be attentive to Slynt tonight and to make him feel important.  Allowing this portly, balding, middle-aged man to awkwardly maneuver her around the dance floor to the elegant strains of Strauss ─ no Western music allowed at a State-sponsored ball ─ _did_ make him feel important.  Alayne could tell by the way he smirked at the other dancers.

 

Alayne knew that she was considered attractive.  She could tell that from the way men looked at her, like a rare gem or a painting ─ something to possess and lock away for safekeeping ─ a treasure for other men to covet.  She wondered how they would look at her if they knew that it was all just an elaborate illusion.  The hair, the makeup, the expensive gown and diamond earrings were all chosen to meet her guardian’s exact specifications.  She had access to the best stylists, tailors and etiquette instructors in Belarus.  Petyr had even hired a private tutor ─ a madam paid generously for her discretion ─ to teach Alayne the art of seduction.  Alayne Stone was merely Petyr’s creation, an ordinary girl groomed from the age of twelve to be Petyr’s weapon.  She was beautiful and charming, able to distract a man into letting his guard down long enough for her to strip away his secrets before he noticed anything was amiss.  At the age of twenty-two Alayne Stone was a spy, and she was very good at it.

 

“I must congratulate you on your recent promotion, Comrade,” Alayne remarked, trying not to grimace when Slynt stomped on her foot.  “My uncle tells me that you are a most important man in our city.  I trust you will keep us safe from those who would attempt to corrupt and subvert the people’s government.”

 

Slynt looked startled, unused to anyone complimenting him.  “Yes, of course,” he responded stiffly.  “You can trust me to keep you safe, my lady.”

 

“I’m quite certain that you will,” Alayne smiled sweetly and gently attempted to prod him in the right direction so as not to interrupt the flow of the other dancers.  “Although it must be especially difficult with the need for increased border security.” 

 

“What about it?”

 

Slynt looked completely bewildered.  Alayne realized he was an even bigger fool than Petyr had described.  Border security was one of the topics that interested Petyr the most, and the primary reason he’d asked her to get close to Slynt.  Apparently the newest Minister was completely clueless about current affairs.

 

“I’ve heard that Minsk has been fortunate enough to be selected as a new site for nuclear waste storage ─ a great honor indeed.  They say that the waste will be shipped from the nuclear plant outside Moscow and stored in underground tanks, in the fields just north of the city,” Alayne explained, trying to keep from rolling her eyes.  Any sane person would be horrified, but a dimwitted communist party official such as Slynt would consider it an honor.  “The train shipments of hazardous cargo crossing the border from Russia will be a target for saboteurs ─ will they not?”

 

Slynt frowned, and after an unbelievably long time seemed to understand at last.  His face lit up then took on an expression that was quite paternal. 

 

“You shouldn’t worry your pretty head about such things.  Of course the authorities in Moscow will have thought of everything.  Those trains will be traveling under the protection of the Red Army.  They will instruct me if any added security becomes necessary.”

 

“Yes of course,” Alayne demurred.  She hesitated before subtly moving her lips closer to Slynt’s ear, noticing that his face flushed a shade darker when she did.  “I merely overheard my uncle talking to some men about it.  He thought it would make a great coup for Minsk if the city police were to offer to provide security once the shipments reached our jurisdiction.  Our supreme Soviet leaders would recognize that Minsk is no mere rural outpost, but rather a valuable asset to the Soviet Union.” 

 

Alayne lowered her eyes, demure again.  “Uncle Petyr’s words, not mine.  I find such talk rather boring, but I thought it might be of interest to you.”  Better Slynt think that she had no intellect of her own.

 

“Yes, yes, of course your uncle is a wise man.”  Slynt grumbled, his jowls quivering as he nodded.  “However, it would be presumptuous of me to interfere in a military operation.  It simply isn’t done.”

 

“You _are_ the Minister of Internal Affairs and Minsk is within your jurisdiction.  Surely the party leaders wouldn’t consider adding an extra patrol or two interference?”  Sansa inquired, widening her green eyes and feigning ignorance.  She quickly added, “Forgive me, I don’t mean to question your judgement, Comrade Slynt.  You have already considered the matter carefully, I’m sure.  You, of all men, know what is best.”

 

Slynt frowned, hesitating.  Alayne could see the struggle between his desire to impress her and his fear of angering his superiors playing out upon his face.  She blinked rapidly, batting her eyelashes and moved her hand a bit lower down his back. That seemed to make up his mind.  As she was slightly taller than he was, Alayne noticed several beads of sweat forming on the crest his balding head.  He cleared his throat before speaking.

 

“Actually I have given this very matter considerable study.  I’m unable to discuss it with you further since it involves highly classified security measures, but rest assured the city police will provide the necessary men to ensure your safety as well as the safety of all citizens of Minsk.”

 

Alayne managed to keep a smirk of satisfaction at bay and instead smiled at Slynt as if he were Cary Grant rather than an overweight mid-level bureaucrat.  She’d planted the seed as Petyr had instructed and it seemed to have taken root.  Slynt blushed again, then unexpectedly jerked her tightly against him so that she could smell the garlic even more intensely.

 

“I have a private room at this hotel, Alaynena Stone,” he murmured, attempting a wink but failing so that he appeared to be squinting.  “Perhaps you would accompany me there for some refreshments?”

 

Alayne’s stomach roiled and she fought the urge to push him away.  Thankfully the music had stopped and decorum forced him to release her.  She took a deep breath, her lips forming a pout.  “I would love to, but I must return to my uncle.”  She glanced in the direction of Petyr’s table, for once relieved to see him watching.  “He has business in Riga tomorrow and I’m accompanying him.  Our train leaves quite early.”

 

Slynt looked miffed and began to argue. “I’m sure that your uncle won’t mind.  I won’t keep you that late.”

 

Alayne took a step back.  “My apologies, Comrade, but I really must go.”

 

Slynt grabbed her arm, his face reddening in anger.  Alayne flinched briefly, but quickly recovered.  It took every ounce of self-control she could muster but she forced herself to step forward and kiss both of his cheeks in the European style. 

 

“Thank you so much for the dance, Comrade Slynt.  Now if you will kindly escort me back to my table?  I’m sure that we will see each other again soon.”  She gave him her most flirtatious smile.

 

The anger on Slynt’s face faded and he glanced around them, seemingly remembering they were in a public venue.  Alayne wondered if Slynt thought at all about his wife, who had most likely stayed home to watch their children.  Sadly, in her limited experience marriage didn’t stop most men from wanting to sleep with her.  Though she didn’t think it possible, her opinion of the man fell even further.  Slynt stared at Alayne for a few awkward moments before offering her his arm.

 

 “I’m certain that we will see each other again, Alaynena Petrova.  I will speak to your uncle about it.”  Alayne ignored the hint of a threat in his tone and remained silent until they arrived at Petyr’s table.

 

“You have a charming niece, Comrade Baelish,” Slynt declared without smiling, then added, “Stop by my office when you return from Riga.  I wish to discuss plans I’ve been considering involving new security measures.”

 

“Yes, of course.  I’ll make an appointment with your secretary.” 

 

After they’d bid Slynt a good night, Petyr took Alayne’s arm and escorted her through the banquet hall toward the cloakroom.  Both sported practiced smiles and nodded politely to other guests while conversing in low tones.  Alayne knew full well that cameras and listening devices were present in most public buildings ─ Moscow was always watching.

 

“That went well, I think,” Petyr praised.  “You’re getting very good at this game, sweetling.”

 

“Do you think that Comrade Slynt was involved with the men responsible for father’s arrest?” She inquired, avoiding Petyr’s compliment.  She always felt strange when he praised her for being deceptive, even though she knew it was necessary ─ and she _was_ good at it.

 

Petyr looked confused by the question for a moment.  After hesitating, he hastily replied, “Oh no, I shouldn’t think so.”

 

“But you promised when I started helping you that we would be working to clear father’s name, and punish those responsible for mother’s death.”  Alayne’s smile vanished, her rising voice earning her a warning look from her uncle.

 

“We will, Alayne.  Soon.  First I must prove my worth here and then we can return to Moscow in a better position to do just that.  You must learn to be patient.”

 

Alayne nearly stopped in her tracks, but managed to remain calm.  It had been nearly ten years since Petyr had taken her from the orphanage and she’d learned the truth about the tragic fates of her parents.  How much longer could she wait? 

 

She was distracted by the wife of a prominent Politburo politician who greeted them enthusiastically, kissing both her cheeks and engaging Petyr in conversation.  When she’d gone they continued forward.

 

“I have been patient, uncle.  You taught me well.  I only want to know that I’m being useful and that we are accomplishing our goal.  I haven’t forgotten the promise you made to me years ago.”

 

“Nor have I,” Petyr met her eyes briefly before glancing away.  “We will bring those responsible to justice.  Your participation is crucial to my plans to see that happen.  Just be patient a little longer.  Very soon I will have an important assignment for you.  More important than anything you’ve done so far.”

 

Alayne studied his face carefully as he gathered their coats from the elderly woman at the desk.  He appeared sincere, but then he always appeared sincere.  She’d seen him lie to others and he was very good at it.  She had always assumed that he would never lie to her.  Was he lying to her now?  She would have to continue to be patient until she learned the truth.

 

~~~

 

**Thursday, November 18th, 1965 - London, England.**

 

 

The assignment seemed relatively straightforward at first.  Stannis Baratheon had listened to the tape recording while absently grinding his teeth as was his habit, inconspicuously ensconced in a phone booth in central London.  The mission involved tracking down an arms dealer behind the Iron Curtain and putting a stop to his threat to sell crude tritium ─ a substance that could be used to make a radioactive dirty bomb ─ to a criminal organization in West Berlin.  The contact inside Belarus was Petyr Baelish, a double agent who had been recruited a decade ago.  Baelish would arrange a meeting between Stannis, posing as the leader of a German crime syndicate, and the Russian arms dealer.  After the radioactive material was secure, the arms dealer would be neutralized in any manner Stannis deemed necessary.  As the tape self-destructed in a swirl of acrid smoke, the words _the government will disavow any knowledge of your actions_ were already fading from Stannis’ ears as he mentally began to select his team.

 

As leader of the ultra-secret entity ─ a covert offshoot of the CIA known informally as the Impossible Missions Force, or IMF ─ Stannis had his pick of the best men and women in the agency.  They were all very capable, but the trick was to choose the right combination for the specific mission.  He returned to his Hyde Park hotel room and poured himself a cup of tea before settling back against the plush bolster with the dossier.  His job wasn’t an easy one.  The need for secrecy, the frequent travel and constant danger made for a lonely existence.  Stannis didn’t mind it so much since he saw it as his duty to protect his country and the rest of the world from the threat of soviet expansion ─ especially the threat of a nuclear war.  He was one of the many anonymous soldiers fighting on the front lines of the Cold War, unrecognized and unthanked but vital to the security of the nation. 

 

At any rate, he was well suited for the life of a spy, having been alone for many years now.  At the start of the second world war, his parents had been sailing from London to Boston, returning to their family home on Cape Cod when their ship was torpedoed by a Nazi sub.  His youngest brother Renly had been traveling with them, but the two older sons, Stannis and his brother Robert, had stayed behind to attend to their studies.  All on board had perished.  Stannis and Robert had both enlisted in the Army as soon as the United States joined the conflict a year later.  Robert had been killed at Omaha Beach attempting to take out a machine gun nest that had his unit pinned down. 

 

Though he’d been in the thick of some heavy fighting, Stannis had somehow survived the war, and was with one of the first infantry divisions to make it into Berlin in 1945.  Heavy bombing had left the city in ruins.  Stannis had stayed during the rebuilding, working for Allied Intelligence.  He’d watched as the Soviets fortified their position in East Berlin and fought their former allies for control of the remainder of the city.  Refugees were fleeing west, attempting escape by the hundreds.  By the time the Soviets had built the wall to lock them in, Stannis was moving up the ranks of the CIA.  In 1962 he’d been assigned to the IMF and had gone deep undercover.  He sometimes wondered what would have happened had he returned home to Cape Cod after the war.  Would he have married … had children?  Not that any woman would have him with his serious disposition, almost obsessive need for perfection, and lack of any inclination toward romance ─ character flaws that his former lovers had been all too willing to bring to his attention.  Skills that served him well in his job were seemingly detrimental to personal relationships.  It was all for the best since it wasn’t good to get too close to anyone in his line of work.  Caring for someone made an agent vulnerable, exposing him to betrayal and potential blackmail.  Better to be alone than take the risk of losing everything. 

 

Stannis shook his head.  There wasn’t time to dwell on the past.  The folder in his lap required his attention.  He set his tea cup aside and withdrew a stack of agent biographies from the file, ready to begin the selection process.  From the start he knew he wanted Davos Seaworth, weapons specialist, as his number two in command.  He’d worked with the man before and held him in high regard.  Davos could not only procure any weapons needed for the mission, but he would be instrumental in negotiating with the arms dealer and securing the dangerous material they were after.  He knew that the name Davos Seaworth was an alias.  None of them knew the real names of the other agents, for their own protection.  Information you didn’t know couldn’t be tortured out of you if you were captured.  Still, he trusted the man based upon their history as teammates and his own intuition that had served him well in the past.  He pulled the photo of the distinguished-looking, bearded Seaworth from the folder and set it aside. 

 

The next photo in the packet was of a ginger-bearded man wearing an eye patch ─ Beric Dondarrion.  Beric was also a weapons specialist and a fine agent, but Stannis felt he lacked the finesse at negotiation that Davos possessed.  Beric could sometimes be short-tempered.  Stannis quickly decided he couldn’t use him for this assignment and moved the picture of Beric to the back of the stack.  He took a sip of tea and thoughtfully studied the head shot of a striking redhead with arresting eyes.  The mysterious agent, known to Stannis only as Melisandre, was also essential for this mission.  She was as masterful as a jewel thief, able to circumvent any security system invented, and so beautiful that she could literally charm the trousers off of any guards they encountered.  Melisandre had worked several successful assignments behind the Iron Curtain.  He placed her photo with that of Davos. 

 

The final team member Stannis needed was someone to act as a driver and bodyguard.  He quickly sorted through the remaining photos in the folder.  He hesitated when he recognized the bald head of agent Boros Blount.  Blount spoke Russian, but Stannis feared the man was too physically distinctive with his stout frame and flattened nose.  He didn’t want a man who would stand out in a crowd.  No, he needed someone strong who could also blend in and conduct surveillance easily.  Stannis finally settled upon the photo of Gendry Waters.  The young man had a good reputation as an agent with a promising future.  He would be the muscle of the group, extensively trained in hand-to-hand combat.  Gendry would serve as the bodyguard that Stannis would be expected to bring to a meeting between criminals. 

 

Satisfied with the team he had chosen, the wildcard as Stannis saw it was Baelish.  He didn’t know the man and he was, therefore, not to be trusted.  Baelish had to be included as part of the team, due to his undercover position in the Belarusian government.  Baelish was supposed to provide another team member ─ someone who would be their liaison in Minsk.  This as-yet-unknown contact would be instrumental in making their introductions to the arms dealer.  Stannis didn’t like surprises and he would be on his guard until he was certain that Baelish posed no threat.  It wasn’t unusual for Stannis to have doubts at the start of a mission; however, as he dialed the secret number that would initiate the arrangements to gather the team, Stannis couldn’t shake a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that this mission would prove to be especially problematic.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**Thursday, November 18th, 1965 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

 

Sansa stared out her bedroom window, located on the fifth floor of the apartment building.  Looking over the rain-soaked rooftops, she could just make out the river in the twilight.  The streetlights began to flicker on, illuminating a few pedestrians with umbrellas heading home from work or to a cafe or club.  She longed to join them, but the guard posted just outside the apartment door prevented her from going anywhere or meeting anyone.  She thought, not for the first time, that it was better to be Alayne Stone, her alias, rather than Sansa Stark.   It was for her own safety, Petyr had explained time and time again.  That was always the reason ─ her own safety.  The people she met only knew her by Alayne Stone.  No one knew the truth. The world couldn’t learn of her true identity because her father was a traitor.

 

Alayne Stone could go out in the world, and attend banquets and go to restaurants ─ although always in the company of her Uncle Petyr.  Sansa knew that she was free to take a walk even now, but the guard would follow at a close distance, reporting to her guardian everything she did and everyone she spoke to.  Then would come the endless questions from Petyr.  _Did you know those people from the cafe? Did they ask you to meet them there? Why would you want to go to a club alone?_   It was better to remain in the apartment than endure an interrogation.  Instead of going out she would spend the evening alone until Petyr returned from work. They would eat a quiet dinner, making dull small talk, and then it would be time to go to bed. 

 

The tedium of daily life, the oppression of her confinement was so much worse now that she was older.  It had been difficult but bearable while she was attending school.  She had been busy with her studies and there had been dance classes and music classes that Petyr had permitted her to take.  She had been out in the world and among people and it was wonderful, with one exception.  Every time it appeared that she might be making a friend, she was forced to break it off ─ to withdraw from the class she was taking, to politely decline an invitation to attend a concert or a play, and to leave all phone calls unreturned.  Once again, it was for her own safety.

 

Sansa listlessly wandered the room, her eyes roving over the few possessions that occupied the spartan space.  She’d taken some care to decorate this room to her own taste, modern yet not sterile.  When her gaze landed upon the doll, she experienced a brief pang of sadness.  The porcelain peasant girl with pale skin, green eyes and red hair, dressed in a traditional folk costume looked a little like her.  It was the last thing her mother gave her and the only item she’d salvaged from her former life.  She’d kept it at the orphanage and later taken it with her when Petyr had brought her from Moscow to Minsk.  It reminded her of the past and caused her to wonder for the thousandth time why everything had gone so wrong in her life. 

 

Sansa had a good life until she was ten ─ loving parents, an older brother away at boarding school, and her mother expecting another child.  She remembered being happy.  Everything had been ripped apart with a knock on the door in the middle of the night.  Raised voices had awoken her and she made it to the bedroom door in time to see three men in dark suits taking her father away.  Sansa had been frightened by the worried look on her father’s face, and by her mother’s terrified reaction.  Catelyn Stark attempted to shield her daughter from the truth of her father’s fate, but her tears and trembling hands as she held Sansa close gave her away.   A few days later she overheard her mother and Uncle Petyr talking about how her father had been arrested by the secret police and sent to the gulag in Siberia.  She never saw Eddard Rickardovich Stark again, but she thought of him often.  So many years had passed.  Sansa wondered if her father was still alive.  How could anyone endure such an unforgiving place?

 

Looking back, Sansa realized that it was after that night that Uncle Petyr began spending more time at their flat.  Sansa knew Petyr Baelish wasn’t her real uncle, rather a friend of her mother’s, but he insisted that Sansa call him that and it hadn’t felt strange at the time.  Catelyn seemed to rely on Petyr more than her other friends now that Ned was in prison.  Sansa would sometimes see Petyr holding her mother as she cried.  She overheard his whispered reassurances to Catelyn when she was supposed to be asleep in her bed.  Petyr made several tense phone calls from their flat while her mother looked on with a look of desperation in her eyes.  At the time Sansa couldn’t make any sense of it since she had no idea to whom he was speaking, but she somehow knew it was about her father. 

 

It must have been nearly a week later that life for Sansa changed forever.  Her mother dropped her off at school and never returned.   Sansa had spent the night at the police station, frightened and crying.  They’d told her next to nothing but she knew that they were keeping some terrible secret from her.  The next morning she found out that there had been an accident and her mother was dead.   Though she’d asked repeatedly, no further information was forthcoming and in the absence of any close relatives she’d been sent to an orphanage run by the state.  She’d asked about her brother and was told he’d been taken in by friends in Leningrad.  Later, she’d heard the whispers amongst the staff that Catelyn Stark had committed suicide, probably unable to bear the stigma of her husband’s scandal.  Sansa had never believed the rumors about her mother any more than she believed that her father was a traitor. 

 

They treated her well at the orphanage, but it was a state institution, sterile and cold.  She’d learned to keep her feelings to herself.  The daughter of a traitor was not looked upon kindly ─ not by the staff or the other children.  She was lucky to be treated with civility.   It was nearly two years later, just after her twelfth birthday, when Uncle Petyr had come to take her away.   She’d almost forgotten what he looked like, and her first thought upon seeing him was that he’d come to tell her that there had been a mistake ─ that her mother was alive and he’d come to take her home.  She quickly dispelled that notion from her mind as she studied his face.  His expression was solemn and yet he forced a smile which was obviously meant to reassure but devoid of any true warmth.  Still, she’d felt strangely elated that the pale, thinly mustached man with the obsidian eyes had wanted to be her guardian.  It meant leaving the drab routine of the institution for what she had thought would be a more exciting life in the city as the ward of a prominent politician. 

 

On the ride to her new home, Petyr had answered her questions one by one.  The answers had made sense at the time, to her twelve-year-old mind, but in hindsight the explanations he offered were superficial at best.  He’d wanted to come for her sooner, but it had been impossible due to both legal and practical considerations.  He’d explained that it was for her own protection, because, as she’d known all along, her mother had not committed suicide.  Then he’d dropped the bomb that had shattered her world, and he’d told her that her mother had been murdered by the secret police. 

 

_“Cat was a beautiful lady, and a dear friend.  She would want me to take care of you,”_ he’d told her as he took her small hand into his large one.  Instead of comforting, she’d found it strangely cold.  _“We’ll find those responsible, sweetling.  We will find them and make them pay.”_

 

It was then that Sansa Stark had ceased to exist and she’d become Alayne Stone.  Alayne Stone had lived a similar life to her own, with some very important differences.  Alayne Stone’s parents had died in an automobile accident when she was ten.  Her father was never a traitor.  Alayne Stone had no friends or relatives except for her Uncle Petyr.  The only way Sansa could be safe was to change her identity.  It was for her own protection, Petyr had reiterated.  Sansa had believed him at first.  She had believed in Petyr then ─ but lately she’d begun to have doubts.

 

“Alayne?  What are you doing in your room with the light off?”

 

Sansa gasped, startled by Petyr’s voice from the doorway.  She’d been so focused on her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard him come home.  Of course he would barge into her bedroom without so much as a knock, but she ignored the initial flash of irritation caused by his sudden appearance and maintained her composure.

 

“Welcome home, uncle.”  Sansa offered her cheek resignedly, knowing Petyr would insist upon a kiss.  It had made her feel quite grown up when she was twelve, but lately she’d begun to feel that his lips lingered a bit longer than necessary.  “I think this time of day when the lights of the city are just coming on is lovely, especially when everything is damp from the rain and I can see the reflections in the water.  I was simply admiring the view.”

 

“Sadly the reality is that it’s cold and dreary outside.  You’re fortunate that you can remain indoors today, sweetling.”  He glanced at the doll in her hands and arched a curious eyebrow, but declined to comment.

 

“I was wondering if we might dine out tonight?” Sansa offered hopefully.  Even though dining with Petyr wasn’t Sansa’s idea of an exciting evening, at least she would be out of the flat and among people; anything to relieve the boredom that had become her existence. 

 

“Not tonight,” Petyr replied.  “I’m afraid that I must attend to some business this evening.  I only returned home to change clothes and fetch some papers.  I’ll be trapped in a tedious meeting with several officials from Moscow over dinner I’m afraid.”

 

“Perhaps I could join you then,” Sansa insisted.  “Do they have any information that could help with our investigation?”  She added the last hesitantly.  Petyr didn’t like to talk about her mother’s death, even in private.  He’d dismissed her questions after the banquet, but that had been two months ago.  They hadn’t discussed it since.

 

“Not tonight, Alayne,” Petyr shot her a disapproving look.  “This meeting is about another matter.  I’ll have Sandor fetch something from the cafe downstairs for your dinner.  Perhaps he can bring you one of those pastries you are so fond of for dessert?”

 

Sansa felt her anger rising as Petyr turned to go, dismissing her as easily as he always did.  It didn’t matter to him that she would spend another lonely evening in their boring flat after weeks of uninterrupted boredom.  Was this how she would spend the rest of her days?  She’d proven herself to him as a valuable accomplice.  He’d admitted that she’d done a fine job of handling Janos Slynt.  She could be trusted to assist him when it suited him, but not to go out on her own.  

 

Technically he was no longer her guardian, now that she was of  legal age, although she still required his financial support.  She could walk out at any time and never return.  She was a woman now, not a child. Though it meant risking his anger, Sansa thought it was time that she be more assertive.

 

“I want to go with you,” she stated, drawing herself up to her full height.  “If you don’t take me, then I’ll go somewhere else ─ to that new restaurant in the Hotel Europa.  I’m sick of being caged up in this flat like a pet cat.”  Although she tried to sound mature and confident, even to her own ears her tone was that of a petulant schoolgirl.

 

She saw Petyr’s back stiffen but he paused a moment before turning slowly to face her, his smile clearly forced.

 

“Of course, Alayne, if you’re bored, by all means go out.  Sandor will accompany you anywhere you’d care to go.”

 

“I don’t want to go with Sandor!” Sansa snapped, letting her emotions get the better of her.  “I don’t require a nanny.  I’ll invite someone to go with me.”

 

“One of your friends from university?  Have you spoken to any of them lately?”  Petyr asked without an ounce of curiosity, already knowing the answer.

 

Petyr’s expression softened and Sansa thought that she detected a hint of pity in his eyes.  Of course he had her now, because she didn’t have any friends.  He’d seen to that.  She clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.  She didn’t know which she wanted more, to scream or to cry.  Before she could think of a reply, Petyr continued in a tone that was more grating than soothing.

 

“Be patient for a few more days.  I told you that I will have another assignment for you ─ a very important one.  It will require you to spend several evenings enjoying the nightlife of Minsk, such as it is.”

 

Sansa’s eyes scoured Petyr’s face, like a detective searching for clues.  He kept dangling this carrot in front of her.  Was this just another lie, simply to keep her quiet?  She hesitated, vowing not to let Petyr read any of her emotions and forcing her expression to remain disinterested.

 

“What sort of assignment?”  Sansa asked, genuinely curious.  Despite Petyr’s blatant manipulation she was excited by the prospect of going out.  She allowed some of the tension to drain from her shoulders.

 

“I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but if everything goes according to plan, our move back to Moscow,” he paused ever so slightly to emphasize the next part, “ _and_ , your eventual marriage will be assured.”

 

“Marriage?”  Sansa’s breath caught in her chest.  What on earth was he talking about now?   “We haven’t discussed anything about marriage.  To whom?”

 

“We’ve discussed it at length,” Petyr countered, feigning surprise.  “My desire for you to marry well and ensure your place and mine in Russian society and Soviet politics.  We’ve had this discussion many times.”

 

“I thought that meant that you would allow me to go out in public so that I might meet someone of my own choosing.  How very 19th century of you to arrange a marriage for me, without my consent!” 

 

Sansa’s fingers tightened their grip on her doll as her smoldering anger flared again. Suddenly being confined to their flat seemed the least of her problems.  It was becoming clear that Petyr hadn’t any intention of finding the men who’d destroyed her family.  He was only using her to further his own ambitions. Despite her best efforts, her emotional distress was clear for Petyr to see.  Petyr’s look of warning made her think twice about commenting further. If she pushed him too far, he would punish her.   He had the power to prevent her from going out at all, for weeks on end ─ he’d done it before.  Instead she forced her anger down into her chest, her muscles so tense she felt herself trembling.

 

“Of course you will have the final say, Alayne.  I’m simply looking out for your best interests, just as I always have.” 

 

He turned away dismissively and added over his shoulder, “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day but I have to be going.  We can discuss this later.”

 

Petyr shut the door behind him.  Sansa closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply to dispel the rage that pounded in her temples.  It was never going to end.  She was a grown woman and still she wasn’t free.  Petyr controlled her every move and would marry her off to a husband of his choosing and then there would be two guardians to _look out for her best interests_.  She had no options to escape ─ no family, no friends, no money of her own.  She was completely alone.  Her anger exploded in a burst of tears and she threw the doll against the back of the door as hard as she could.  The impact was a muffled thud and it fell to the floor, the head breaking into several scattered pieces.  Although the release felt good, the sight of the broken doll made Sansa cry harder because of the sentimental value.

 

“Is everything all right, Alayne?”  Petyr called from the other room, but thankfully didn’t come to check.

 

“I’m fine, I just dropped a book,” Sansa responded quickly, wiping her tears with a tissue and fighting to regain control of herself. 

 

Sansa took several deep breaths and stooped to pick up the broken pieces.  Brushing a fallen strand of hair from her face, she frowned as she glimpsed a corner of folded paper wedged into the body of the doll.  She picked up the body and carried it to her bed, sitting down to examine it more closely.  Pulling it free with two fingers she realized it was a note, folded into a small square that would fit into the doll’s neck where the head attached.  As she unfolded it and began to read, her blood suddenly turned to ice water.  _Dearest Sansa_ , it began, _if you are reading this then I am either dead or in the gulag_.  It was from her mother.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Wednesday, December 8th, 1965 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

The team had arrived in Minsk, separately and without incident.  Davos had arrived first, followed shortly by Melisandre.  They had rented and secured a flat close to the city center but off the main thoroughfare.   The building had several points of egress and ample sightlines should escape become necessary.  Gendry had procured an automobile and parked it in a garage down the block.  Stannis arrived last, apprehensive about the upcoming meeting with Baelish.  They’d agreed to meet at a local cafe, a popular lunchtime spot that would be suitably crowded.  Baelish was to bring their contact along ─ the final member of the team and the person who would be instrumental in relaying information between Stannis’ team and Baelish.  Baelish couldn’t afford to blow his cover by being seen too often in the company of a businessman from the west.  The problem was, Stannis knew very little about Baelish and he wasn’t ready to trust him just yet.  Until he learned more about him, Stannis intended to proceed with extreme caution.

 

Stannis’ suspicions were confirmed at the cafe where the initial meeting was to take place at noon.  Stannis had staked out a secluded table in the back, while Davos and Melisandre ─ pretending to be a couple ─ had arrived earlier and were seated at the front.  Gendry sat alone and sipped a coffee at a table outside, near the door.  Baelish entered the cafe, but he wasn’t with another operative — instead he had a young lady with him.  Surely this woman, who appeared to be no older than eighteen, and was dressed in an outfit that would be appropriate for the cover of a fashion magazine, was not their contact.  Stannis hid his displeasure and focused his attention on the attractive redhead as she was being introduced.

 

“This is my niece, Alayne Stone,” Baelish announced as he helped her take a seat.  Stannis knew he was lying.  There was a tell when someone was lying, their eyes moved down and to the left.  It was a subtle movement, but involuntary, and Baelish did it.  He didn’t know who the woman was, but she wasn’t Baelish’s niece.

 

“Why is she here?”  Stannis demanded under his breath, after greeting Baelish as if he were an old friend and casually pouring tea for the three of them.

 

“Relax,” Baelish replied, smiling cordially but keeping his voice low.  “She’s part of the plan.  Alayne will play the role of your young Belarusian lover ─ a little arm candy to make your cover as a crime boss look more authentic.  It’s a perfect way for the two of us to communicate, by using Alayne to relay messages between us without raising suspicions.”

 

Surely this young lady, who was obviously a civilian, wasn’t the final team member that Baelish had promised.  Stannis’ jaw tightened as he bit back his displeasure at the unexpected turn of events.  This was unprofessional behavior from a man he was being forced to work with.

 

“Why would anyone believe that your niece would want anything to do with me, an acquaintance of her uncle?”

 

“Don’t be so naive, Mr. Baratheon.  Many young women attach themselves to older businessmen from the West.  The men buy them expensive gifts that they couldn’t afford here and the girls dream of obtaining a visa to travel abroad.  Of course we all know what the men get out of it.  It happens all the time.” 

 

Baelish smiled in a way that made Stannis feel like he needed to take a shower.  Stannis studied Alayne carefully for the first time.   With her high cheekbones, fair skin and stunning blue-green eyes, she was a strikingly beautiful woman.  Her red hair wasn’t as dark as Melisandre’s but it was still very rich in color and Alayne wore it braided and tucked into a stylish updo ─ very Eastern European.  Although her hairstyle made her look older, Stannis still guessed her age to be no more than twenty.

 

“And you, Miss Stone?”  Stannis asked, meeting her gaze.  “How do you feel about all of this?”

 

“I believe in our mission, Mr. Baratheon,” she said confidently, turning to smile at her “uncle.”  “I want to do my part to make certain that we succeed.  I’m not inexperienced.  I’ve assisted my uncle before.”

 

She spoke English flawlessly, with just a trace of a Russian accent.  Stannis looked for any hint of uncertainty on her face, but detected none.  He wasn’t happy about it, but this was neither the time nor place for an argument.

 

“Very well.  Have Miss Stone arrive at my flat tonight at seven.  Make sure that she has the location and time we’re to meet the target.”

 

As Baelish pulled out a cigarette, Stannis handed him a book of matches with the address of his rented flat written inside the cover.  Petyr took a match, memorized the address and handed the matchbook back to Stannis. 

 

They finished their tea in silence and then Petyr stood, shaking hands with Stannis.  Alayne leaned in and touched each of her cheeks to Stannis’, giving him a European-style kiss.  One hand slid down his arm, which might have been construed as a flirtatious gesture to the casual observer.  As she pulled away, he felt her fingers brush his hand and a thin, flat object press against his palm.  Her eyes held his for a brief moment and Stannis thought she was going to say something, but the moment passed and Alayne and Baelish left the cafe. 

 

Stannis watched them go, making sure they were out of sight before opening his hand.   He unfolded and read the note that Alayne had slipped him, unbeknownst to Petyr, while she was kissing him goodbye.  It read simply, “Help me.”

 

There was no such thing as a straightforward assignment, he concluded with a heavy sigh.

 

 

~~~

 

Sansa had no idea if she’d done the right thing or not by slipping that note to Stannis Baratheon.  Her heart was fluttering so hard when she’d left the cafe with Petyr that for a moment she thought she might faint.  She held it together, though, and they’d returned to the flat without incident.  Petyr showed no sign of suspecting what Sansa had done.  He’d wanted to go over the plan again as soon as they’d walked in the door.  Petyr had always been a meticulous planner.  It was a trait that served him well in politics, but one that made him nearly impossible to deceive.  Sansa managed to stall him a moment and excused herself to the toilet, needing some time to regain her composure.

 

Sansa studied herself in the mirror, repositioning a wayward strand of auburn hair.  Her cheeks were flushed but she could pass that off from walking outside in the cold.  She had to slow the rapid tempo of her breathing and relax the tension in her shoulders.  Petyr would notice these small signs of anxiety ─ he always did.

 

_“Why are you so tense, sweetling?”_ he would ask, his tone cloying ─ as if she couldn’t list a million reasons.  This time, though, he might connect it to their meeting with Stannis Baratheon.  She couldn’t afford for him to be suspicious ─ not when she finally had a chance to escape.

 

Could she trust Baratheon?  That was the big question.  She was taking an enormous chance.  She suspected that Petyr would kill her before he’d let her go.  Although he’d never been physically abusive, somehow she knew from his obsessive need for control that she would never be allowed to just walk away and live her own life.  She’d harbored doubts about Petyr before, and the note from her mother had confirmed them.  In fact, Petyr was worse than she’d even imagined.  Sansa removed the folded paper from her purse.  She should have destroyed it at once to prevent Petyr finding it, but it contained her mother’s last words to her, as if Catelyn were speaking to her from the past.  She hadn’t yet felt strong enough to part with it.  Even though she had the words memorized, she read them again for the twentieth time.

 

_Dearest Sansa_ , _if you are reading this then I am either dead or in the gulag_. _It hurts me more than you can ever know that I have left you alone and unprotected.  There is little I can do to save myself but I take comfort in the idea that you might ─ that you WILL escape.  Petyr will most likely come to take custody of you now.  Go with him.  He will keep you safe until you are old enough to live on your own, but never ever trust him.  No matter what he tells you, listen to me!  He betrayed your father and he will betray you too if he feels it is necessary to place his interests before yours.  When you are old enough you must escape to the west.  Find your Aunt Lysa in Switzerland.  I’ve already sent word to Robb to join her too.  She will take care of_

 

Sansa got the impression that her mother was interrupted because the note left off mid-explanation and ended with a hastily scribbled ─ _I love you_ ─ at the bottom.

 

Although the note made the seriousness of her situation clear, Sansa was left with so many questions.  How and why had Petyr betrayed her father?  Had he betrayed her mother too?  What about Robb ─ was he still in Leningrad or had he escaped as Catelyn had said?  Sansa’s head hurt when she contemplated the totality of this new information. The one fact that stood out was that she must do as her mother instructed ─ she must escape from Petyr Baelish before it was too late.  Two days ago Petyr had finally told her about the important assignment that he had planned for her.  Petyr was supposed to work with Stannis Baratheon, an American agent, as part of a covert operation.  She’d been surprised at first.  In her eyes Petyr had always been a Communist Party loyalist.  His ambitions lay in rising up in the ranks of the party to gain status and power.  Her uncle explained that he’d been working with the Americans for years, but only to provide counterintelligence for his own government.  Petyr was a double agent.  Of course, that made sense to her that Petyr had his own secret agenda that Baratheon wasn’t privy to.  But, he’d also confessed that if things ever went wrong with his plans for promotion, defecting to the West was always an option.  Her uncle was just as duplicitous as Catelyn had warned.  Whatever Petyr had intended, this revelation had been a precious gift to Sansa.  She would be meeting with an American agent!  Her chance for escape was obvious.  She’d asked numerous questions about the assignment, but he’d told her little.  Sansa was only informed of what Petyr wished her to know.  She knew going forward that she would be forced to play along and keep her eyes and ears open.

 

Before the meeting with Stannis Baratheon, Sansa had weighed the risks over and over in her mind, inserting the most likely variables and calculating every possible outcome.  Petyr had taught her that at least.  Surely she’d placed herself in a strategic position with Baratheon.  If she tipped him off to Petyr’s duplicity, Baratheon would be indebted to her.  He would be more likely to aid her escape.  On the other hand, if Baratheon wasn’t as capable as she hoped ─ if he wasn’t able to thwart Petyr’s scheme, then she would have to simply pretend that she was still loyal to her uncle.  Convincing others that she was Baratheon’s mistress, and manipulating him with her feminine charms; that was what Petyr had instructed her to do.  If she followed his orders while feeding information to Baratheon, hopefully she could keep both men happy until only one of them remained.  It the victor was Petyr … she didn’t even want to contemplate what would happen then.

 

She was playing a dangerous game, positioning herself between the two men, but she was desperate.  As long as she didn’t underestimate Petyr she would be okay.  Stannis Baratheon was the difficulty.  She knew nothing about him except what Petyr had told her.  She’d only learned of his existence two days earlier, when Petyr had first briefed her on the details of the meeting.  Petyr had claimed his contacts had told him little about Baratheon, but Sansa suspected he wasn’t telling her the truth.  Petyr said that Baratheon had the reputation of being a truly honest man, and he’d laughed when he said it.  Sansa knew that was one trait that Petyr loathed.  He had no use for a man he couldn’t buy.  These past days, she’d listened closely to what he told her, examining the words in her mind and searching for hidden meanings and motivations, reconstructing the actual truth by filling in the blank spaces between the half-truths.  She was learning the game better each day.  She had to in order to survive.

 

“Are you ill, sweetling?”

 

Petyr’s voice from the other side of the door startled Sansa, forcing her thoughts back to the present.  She cringed when she heard the doorknob rattle as he tried it and found it locked.  Petyr hated when she attempted to assert her right to privacy.  Quickly she turned the handle on the faucet, causing the old plumbing to squeak and groan in protest.

 

“I’m just freshening up.  My hair has a mind of its own today.  I’ll join you shortly,” she replied loudly over the running water, careful to keep her tone light.

 

“I’ll be in the study,” Petyr replied after an uncomfortable pause.

 

Sansa released a breath and placed her hands on the sides of the basin, trying to stop them from shaking.  It was no use.  She couldn’t seem to calm down and Petyr was sure to notice.  Sansa grabbed her purse and fumbled through the contents, pushing aside her comb, compact, lipstick and tissues until she arrived at the bottom.  Her fingers grasped the familiar hand-painted tin, with the picture of a beautiful white wolf, and pulled it free.   Ignoring the tremors, she managed to remove two white pills, place them on the back of her tongue and swallow.  A sip of water completed the ritual.  She felt calmer already, though she knew that the pills required at least twenty minutes to take effect.  Sansa refused to acknowledge the inner voice that accused her of being weak.  She’d been trying to wean herself off for the past month.  Petyr had a physician friend prescribe them for her nerves two years ago and she was beginning to suspect that they weren’t as harmless as he’d assured her.  But, now was not the time to try and quit when she was under more stress than ever.  She closed her purse, pinched her cheeks to give them some color, took a deep calming breath and released it slowly.  Now she was ready to join her uncle in the study.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“I don’t like surprises.  I think this jeopardizes the entire operation,” Davos complained, his heavy eyebrows knitted in concern.  “We don’t know anything about her.  What kind of help does she want?  Does she want to defect?  Or is this some kind of trap?  We simply don’t know.”

 

Stannis paced the length of the living area, grinding his teeth absently as he listened to his second in command. 

 

“Wire our contacts in London, see if MI6 knows anything about her.”

 

“Already done,” Davos answered, handing Stannis a file.  “The information is minimal, but what we do have you’re not going to like.”

 

Stannis pulled a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and glanced through the papers, pausing to study a grainy photograph of Petyr Baelish and Alayne Stone exiting a drab, Soviet-era apartment building.

 

“He took her from an orphanage in Moscow, claiming she’s his niece, but there are no records that prove it,” Davos continued.  “Baelish was appointed to the Central Committee in Belarus immediately following Eddard Stark’s arrest for espionage.  Stark is Alayne Stone’s father, or rather, Alayne Stone is actually an alias for Sansa Stark.”

 

Stannis peered over the rims of his glasses and locked eyes with Davos.

 

“I thought that might get your attention,” Davos quipped, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

 

“Eddard Stark ─ the former Soviet ambassador to the U.K.?  Eddard Stark, the man MI6 recruited to spy for them?”

 

Davos nodded.   “The Brits claim that he wasn’t on their payroll, although our people say otherwise.  The Soviets were convinced that he was.  He was sent to a gulag and never heard from again.”

 

“And Baelish is appointed to a key position in the Belarussian government shortly thereafter.  A reward, perhaps?”

 

“The timing is too much of a coincidence for it not to be.  At the time the Soviets were placing a few of their own men ─ men they could control ─ in key positions of power in the governments of Eastern bloc countries.  They wanted to ensure that those countries remained loyal to Moscow, and also to gather any useful intelligence.  Petyr Baelish seemed to fill that role nicely.”

 

“Which is why we recruited him,” Stannis added, returning the spectacles to his breast pocket.  “I suppose it isn’t all that unusual for Miss Stark to be using an alias, given that her father is a convicted traitor to the communist regime.  Still, I don’t like the fact that Baelish didn’t inform us himself.  He had to know we’d find out.”

 

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Melisandre.”  Stannis addressed the beautiful redhead who was casually lounging in an arm chair.  “You must have an opinion on the matter.” 

 

He had chosen his team members carefully for this mission.  He, Davos, and Melisandre had worked together before and had developed a mutual respect for one another.  Davos was usually the cautious one, carefully weighing the risks before suggesting a move.  Melisandre was more of a risk taker, although never recklessly so.  Typically, she advocated taking a risk in order to maximize the payoff.  Stannis realized that he would be relying heavily on the two of them in the days and weeks to come.  Melisandre had appeared disinterested in the conversation, flipping through a fashion magazine while the two men talked.  Stannis knew her well enough to know that it was all a practiced deception.  Melisandre _had_ been listening intently, and given that she’d spent a number of years living undercover behind the Iron Curtain, he knew she could provide a unique perspective.

 

“Baelish is not to be trusted,” Melisandre declared, tossing the magazine aside and turning her attention to Stannis.  “He has no loyalty to either side.  He would sell his own mother to further his own interests.  In fact, he probably has.”

 

“Yes, yes.  We all know about Baelish,” Stannis replied impatiently.  “I want to know what you make of the Stark girl.  Is she on the level, or is she working with Baelish to try and sabotage the mission?  Do you agree with Davos that her presence means we should terminate the operation immediately?”

 

Melisandre frowned.  “I don’t think we have that option.  Too many lives are at stake.  The consequences of terrorists gaining possession of nuclear material outweigh the risks we are taking.  I say we interrogate Sansa Stark─” Melisandre smiled when Davos raised an eyebrow. “─gently of course, and see what she has to say.”

 

Stannis’ brow furrowed in concentration as he weighed the advice of his advisors.  He moved to the fireplace, the heat warming his face.  He tossed the folder Davos had given him into the flames and watched it slowly turn black, smolder and then ignite.  Soon, all that was left was a pile of ash.  Stannis considered his impressions of Sansa Stark thoughtfully.  She was charming and beautiful, tall and elegant, her fiery hair in contrast to her cool demeanor.  She was young, yes, but Gendry wasn’t much older and he’d proven himself a valuable member of the team.  His instincts told him that this was no helpless damsel in distress waiting for a prince to rescue her.  At the cafe she’d acted calm, professional, and a bit flirtatious, which was obviously intended to bolster her cover as his mistress.  Stannis had to remind himself not to underestimate her, despite her young age and her beauty.

 

“We will proceed as planned.  When the Stark girl arrives, hopefully she will provide us with satisfactory answers to our questions.  Agreed?” 

 

Stannis turned to look at Davos and Melisandre.  They both nodded their heads but the frowns on their faces betrayed their misgivings. 

 

 

~~~

 

 

“No, of course not.  There is no chance that he would connect me with you.  I wasn’t there.”

 

Sansa stopped in her tracks outside the door to the study, as Petyr’s voice carried through the opening.  She knew she shouldn’t be listening to his phone conversation, but it would be in her best interests to gather as much information as possible.   She would need to be extremely careful in the days to come, not to get caught doing anything that would give Petyr reason to be suspicious of her.

 

“Yes, yes, I know that.  He’ll discover her identity, but it won’t be a problem.  I assure you that I have the situation under control.  Baratheon won’t be in any position to stop the delivery, and even if he does figure out the truth, it won’t really matter in the end, now, will it?”

 

Petyr’s cryptic remark and subsequent laugh sent a chill down Sansa’s spine.  She wondered to whom he was speaking.  Obviously Petyr’s plans involved someone else, and that someone seemed to be rather important for Petyr to promise to protect his identity.   She decided when she heard the click of the receiver that it was time to make her presence known.

 

“Ah, there you are,” Petyr smiled his typical smile ─ the one that never touched his eyes — when Sansa entered.  “I was beginning to worry.”

 

“I told you I’m fine.  I was only touching up my hair and makeup.  I want to look presentable for this evening.”

 

“You always look beautiful.  Every eye in the room will be on you.”

 

When she was a girl, Sansa blushed when Petyr complimented her looks, but since she’d become a woman his remarks and the way he sometimes looked at her only made her feel violated.  She tried changing the subject, keeping her tone matter of fact.  Maybe she could gather some additional information that would prove useful later on.

 

“I heard voices when I was in the hallway.  I thought you were with someone.”

 

“It was only a business call, nothing of importance to you.”

 

“Did it have anything to do with Stannis Baratheon?” 

 

Sansa knew she was skating on thin ice.  She didn’t usually question Petyr and the look he gave her bordered on suspicion, but her desire for information won out.

 

“No, nothing.  It was a former associate of mine in Moscow.  You don’t know him, but I’ll introduce you to him soon enough.  He has an important role to play in our future.”  He smiled enigmatically and sat on the edge of the desk, motioning for Sansa to take a seat on the settee.  “But now isn’t the time to talk about future plans.  I need to make sure that you understand what your role is for the next few days.”

 

“I’m to pretend to be Stannis Baratheon’s mistress,” Sansa offered a wan smile.  “There isn’t much to understand.  I’m to be seen with him in public, acting casual and enjoying the nightlife like any ordinary couple, and relay information between the two of you as necessary.”

 

“Yes, precisely.  It is important that Baratheon be seen as a typical Western businessman.  Most of them attend meetings and take tours by day and overindulge in women and vodka at night.  He must appear to be in Minsk for legitimate purposes, and his connection to me, through my lovely niece, will lend legitimacy to any sightings of the two of us together.”  Petyr tilted his head and studied Sansa appraisingly.   “I don’t imagine that wearing beautiful clothes and dining at the finest restaurants in Minsk will be much of a hardship for you.”

 

“No,” Sansa answered truthfully.  “The difficult part will be gaining Stannis Baratheon’s trust.  You’ve instructed me to try and get close to him, to learn what information that I can, but I’m not sure how far you want me to…” 

 

Her voice trailed off, betraying her awkwardness at broaching the subject with her guardian.  Petyr had always been very protective of her virtue.  He’d kept her away from boys at school and rarely let her attend parties, dances, or other social functions where she might meet someone who might take a romantic interest in her.  He’d made it clear from an early age that he expected her to marry well.  A powerful husband would be just another asset that Petyr could use to further his own interests.  But powerful men could afford to be choosy, and Petyr demanded that Sansa remain chaste, just in case.  Not that she was a complete innocent.  Petyr also made sure that she was instructed in the basic facts of life, which thankfully he had no interest in teaching her himself.  During her adolescent years he’d introduced her to a lady “friend” of his, Madam Chatayashovich, who became not only a welcome confidant, but her only source of advice concerning the more intimate issues faced by women.  Unbeknownst to Petyr, Madam Chatayashovich had undertaken her assignment with enthusiasm, and had gone beyond the basics of reproduction and delved into the realm of various ways in which to please a man without losing one’s virginity.  Sansa had been both fascinated and terrified.  Given the opportunity, she had no idea if she could ever be bold enough to attempt acts that made her blush even thinking about them ─ even if she might want to.  Thankfully the pills helped her to relax and bolstered her courage.  Besides, Sansa Stark wasn’t the person who entertained these men, it was Alayne.  Alayne Stone was poised and confident.  Alayne Stone could do things that Sansa would never consider. 

 

According to Petyr’s instructions, Alayne could use her feminine wiles to attract men, but her virginity ensured that the right man would want to marry her.  Therefore, it made no sense that Petyr wanted her to sleep with Stannis Baratheon.  Not that she would, even if he wanted her to, but she didn’t want to disobey Petyr until she was certain of her escape.

 

“No, sweetling.” Seeing her discomfort, Petyr moved to sit beside her, placing a hand over hers.  Sansa fought the urge to jerk away.  “I never meant for you to share his bed, only to make him desire you and perhaps even care for you.  You are the perfect distraction, and a man who is distracted is more likely to make a mistake.  Be careful with him though, he is nothing like that buffoon Slynt, who was so easily duped.  Baratheon is a formidable agent, whether he’s an ally or an enemy.  Do not underestimate him.”

 

“I thought the two of you were on the same side,” Sansa continued, playing naive.  “You told me that you had decided to work for the Americans because someday we might defect to the West.”

 

“There is only one side, Alayne ─ our side.  Our side is the two of us alone.  For now, Baratheon and his team are our allies.  They will help us achieve our short-term goals and if our plan should fail for some reason, they are our safety net in case we are forced to defect.  When they prove to be more of a hindrance than help, we must part ways.”

 

Sansa nodded, not bothering to argue that _our_ plan was really just Petyr’s plan and parting ways would most likely result in the Americans’ deaths.

 

“Now, I think it’s time for you to meet Baratheon at his flat.”  Petyr rose and took her hand, pressing it to his lips for a kiss.  “Follow my instructions to the letter and everything will work out in the end.  Trust me.”

 

If only she could.  The truth of it was that at the moment Sansa trusted no one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a short chapter but from now on there will be more chapters with Stannis and Sansa together. Thanks for sticking with me!


	5. Chapter 5

“May I take your coat, Miss Stone?”

 

Sansa stood in front of Stannis Baratheon and studied him carefully for the first time.  At the cafe she’d been much too nervous about delivering the note in front of Petyr to have been overly observant.  She was tall, but he was taller still, and quite an imposing man.  Although he wasn’t movie-star handsome, his chiseled jaw and startling blue eyes made her breath catch with interest just as it had when she’d first seen him at the cafe.  She didn’t think that she would soon tire of looking at him.  Moreover there was an undefinable quality to him that both frightened and comforted her.  Meeting his intense gaze, she was certain that Stannis Baratheon could kill without hesitation if need be, but that he would also be willing to die for what he believed in.  She understood why Petyr had instructed her to be cautious around him.

 

Her caution proved warranted the minute she turned her back toward Stannis.  As he lowered her coat over her shoulders, he moved with startling precision, pulling her against his body forcefully.  Sansa gasped in surprise, dropping her purse.  She was rendered helpless, her arms trapped in her coat sleeves and held fast by Stannis’ iron grip.  She thought to kick his shin, but he had carefully positioned his foot next to hers, cutting off the angle. 

 

“Melisandre,” Stannis called softly.

 

Before Sansa could protest, Melisandre was in front of her, hands patting none too gently over Sansa’s breasts, stomach and thighs.  Davos, meanwhile, had retrieved her clutch from the floor and tossed it to Gendry.

 

“What─” Sansa started to shout, her anger rising, but Stannis’ hand clamped over her mouth, cutting her off.

 

Melisandre held a finger to her own lips, signaling Sansa to be silent and her anger cooled as quickly as it had flared.  She understood now; they were searching for a listening device ─ a wire.

 

Sansa ceased struggling immediately and she felt Stannis’ grip on her relax.  The thought briefly crossed her mind that now that Stannis wasn’t squeezing her so brutally, the sensation of being held in his strong arms was not unpleasant.

 

“Clean,” Melisandre announced, returning to her seat.

 

“Nothing but cosmetics, a handkerchief, a tin of aspirin, and a set of keys,” Gendry added, closing her purse.

 

“My apologies, Miss Stone,” Stannis said, releasing Sansa and removing her coat.  “We’ve swept the apartment for bugs but couldn’t take the chance that you were wearing a wire.  I’m sure you understand.”

 

Sansa accepted her clutch from Gendry, relieved that he’d thought her secret pills to be merely aspirin.  She rubbed her arms and stared pointedly at Stannis as he placed her coat on the rack.  She detected a slight tinge of color on his cheeks and wondered if it was from exertion or if he had found holding her somewhat enjoyable.  When he returned to where she was standing it was gone and she thought she might have imagined it.  In fact, judging by the scowl on his face she concluded he didn’t enjoy much of anything.

 

“Yes, Mr. Baratheon.  I am well aware that I have not yet earned your trust.”

 

“You can start by telling us about yourself,” Stannis instructed, motioning for Sansa to take a seat on the sofa.  “Perhaps you should start by telling us your real name.  If you would, start from the moment that Petyr Baelish came to be the guardian of Sansa Stark.”

 

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise but she covered any other signs that Baratheon’s question had rattled her.  She nodded, smoothing her dress and offered a wane smile.  She sat next to Davos and began her story, explaining in careful detail how she had come to be known as Alayne Stone, niece of Petyr Baelish.  Stannis remained standing, pacing like a caged panther, peppering her with questions as she spoke.

 

“I trusted him at first,” Sansa admitted, keeping her voice calm while her stomach tightened with anger at the memory of Petyr’s betrayal.  She stopped short of telling them about the note from her mother.  She decided to limit the information she shared until she knew more about the Americans and their agenda.  “I was only a child when he took me from the orphanage.  He treated me well, allowing me to attend school but limiting my interactions with other children.”

 

“And during this time you never suspected that he was anything other than a public servant?” Stannis questioned, stopping in front of Sansa to wait for her response. 

 

The effect of him looming over her was intimidating, which is exactly what Sansa assumed was his intent.  Sansa refused to allow fear of Stannis Baratheon, or anger at his manipulation, to muddy her thoughts and continued to answer candidly.

 

“No.  I suspected nothing.  He never gave me any reason to.  He went to work every day, sometimes he worked late into the evenings─”

 

“But at some point you found out about his activities,” Stannis interrupted accusingly.

 

“If you know so much, Mr. Baratheon, then why do you need me to explain?  I’m not fond of your tone.  It was I who came to you for help, but if you don’t trust me then there isn’t any point in continuing.”

 

Sansa saw the blue flash of anger in Baratheon’s eyes but before he could argue, Davos spoke.

 

“Miss Stark, I apologize for the interrogation, but I’m sure that you are well aware that we need to verify your story as best we can before trusting you.”

 

“It isn’t a story, Mr. Seaworth, it’s the truth,” Sansa countered calmly. “Whether or not you choose to believe me is up to you.” 

 

“This isn’t a game,” Stannis’ voice was controlled, but Sansa noticed the tension in his jaw.  “We will either verify the information you provide or we will prove you a liar.  If you are lying, there will be consequences.”

 

She wasn’t lying.  Not yet. This was all proceeding according to plan so far ─ Petyr’s plan.  He wanted her to gain the Americans’ trust.  Her own strategy of escape had yet to come into play.  It would involve becoming much closer to Stannis Baratheon than Petyr had intended.  The thought of betraying Petyr turned her blood cold with fear, but she had confidence in her abilities to seduce and manipulate men.  What it all came down to was that Baratheon was a man like any other.  Petyr had trained her well and she intended to put her skills to good use, this time to benefit herself.

 

“I understand that you are justified in giving me ─ what is the expression you Americans use ─ the third degree?  However, may I suggest that we continue this conversation at another time?  Petyr sent me here with instructions to take you to dinner, Mr. Baratheon.  We are to be seen together in public in order to establish our relationship.  He will become suspicious if I remain here in your flat for too long.”

 

As if on cue, Gendry turned from the window where he’d been watching the street discreetly from the edge of the curtain.

 

“There are two men out front in a black sedan.  They haven’t moved since Miss Stark arrived.”

 

“Government car, I should think,” Davos added.

 

Stannis’ gaze remained fixed upon Sansa his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

 

“Petyr’s men,” Sansa offered quickly.  “Come now, you knew he’d have me followed.”

 

“Of course we did,” Stannis replied shortly.  “We aren’t amateurs.  You were supposed to bring us the name of the contact ─ the arms dealer.  Petyr isn’t calling all the shots here.  I’m in charge of the operation.”

 

“Yes, I understand that,” Sansa replied, demurring slightly.  It was obvious to her that Baratheon needed to feel in control.  Not unlike Petyr.  Perhaps she could use that to her advantage.  “The contact is General Trant.”

 

“Meryn Trant?” Davos interjected, frowning.  “From the Red Army Command?”

 

Sansa nodded.  “He’s a former Red Army Commander.  He was sent to Minsk to train the Belarusian guard.  I think he viewed it as an insult, being forced into such a position.  However, he found the black market to be quite lucrative.  The further from Moscow, the further from government oversight.  Petyr will set up the meeting and slip the information as to the exact place and time to us during dinner.”

 

“Why not now?”

 

“My uncle is a cautious man.  He feels that it’s safer this way.” 

 

Sansa rose and smoothed her dress, noticing how Stannis Baratheon’s eyes were automatically drawn to her long legs before he quickly averted them.  He wasn’t as immune to her charms as he acted.

 

 “I’m not used to having to beg a man to take me to dinner, Mr. Baratheon.”  She smiled sweetly. “You do eat, don’t you?”

 

Stannis didn’t answer but scowled at her a moment before fetching her coat.

 

“Davos, you should make use of the time to procure any additional weapons we may require.  I don’t want to go into a meeting with Trant unarmed.  Melisandre and Gendry can stand watch at the restaurant.” 

 

Davos nodded and excused himself immediately, disappearing into the study to make a few phone calls.

 

Stannis helped Sansa into her coat, this time without trying anything dramatic like restraining her.  Mentally she chastised herself for feeling slightly disappointed.  She’d never been required to manipulate a man she was actually attracted to before and she could not afford to let her guard down for a second.

 

 “Shall we go, Miss Stark?”

 

“You should start calling me Alayne.  I am your mistress after all.”  She linked her arm with his.  “I’m looking forward to spending this evening with you, Stannis.”

 

Stannis simply continued to scowl and held the door for her.  She wondered if he ever smiled.  She thought not.

 

~~~

 

 

The hotel dining room had an old-world elegance that was lacking in many sterile, Soviet-style establishments, but Stannis’ mind was not on the decor.  Sansa was going on about the local cuisine while he was trying to shake the feeling of dread that had caused a knot to form in his stomach soon after his initial meeting with Baelish and his “niece.”  He’d had a bad feeling about everything that had happened since.  He didn’t like that Baelish had altered the plan and was now trying to run the operation.  He didn’t like that Alayne Stone had turned out to be Sansa Stark and that suddenly out of the clear blue sky, she was asking for his help, supposedly to escape from Petyr Baelish, the man that was supposed to be his ally for this mission.  He was used to adapting the mission to account for unforeseen problems; that was standard procedure in his line of work.  But on this mission, absolutely nothing was going to plan so far.  What sort of game was the Stark girl playing?  He wasn’t convinced that she was telling the complete truth.  Melisandre was right, though — the mission was too important to pull the plug on everything.  They were committed now, and he had to find a way to see the team through safely.

 

“You should order vodka first, then wine.  That’s the custom here,” Sansa offered helpfully as Stannis continued to stare at the wine list, deep in thought.

 

“Hmmm,” he mumbled, acknowledging her voice but continuing to ignore her.

 

Suddenly Sansa reached across the table and grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her.  “You want the people watching us to think you’re trying to get me drunk so you can fuck me.  That is what a typical German businessman would do in this situation.  Or are you so bored with me already that you can’t even pretend to be interested in seducing me?”

 

 _That_ got his attention.  He clenched his jaw, his blood pressure rising a few points.  He didn’t know what irritated him more, the fact that this beautiful young woman knew so much about what men wanted or that she was telling him how to do his job.  Maybe it was the fact that she was right.

 

“How do you know that we’re being watched?” he asked, wondering if she was as clever as she pretended to be.

 

Sansa kept her head still, continuing to smile at Stannis, but allowed her eyes to dart to a table in the corner where two men in suits were gazing at menus.

 

“Those two are spies.  Not the usual clientele.” 

 

“How do you know?”

 

“The men who dine here are western businessmen and the corrupt politicians who get rich off them.  The couples who dine here are the rich politicians and their wives who want to show off their wealth, or the western businessmen and their mistresses ─ like us.  Those two men are wearing unfashionable suits with no cufflinks.  Their watches are stainless steel military issue.  They aren’t meeting their wives because the hostess removed the extra place settings.  They don’t belong.  Shall I go on?”

 

Stannis raised an eyebrow and he forced a smile ─ he was supposed to be enjoying himself after all.

 

“Baelish’s men?”

 

“No, I think I would recognize them.  Petyr will have men waiting outside.  Judging from the military look, I would guess those two were sent by General Trant.  It makes sense that he would want a report of our movements.”

 

“Impressive, Miss Stone.”  He _was_ impressed; she was good at her job.  But the idea of Baelish’s mentoring her made him angrier than it should have.  “Did your uncle teach you that?  I wonder what else he’s taught you,” Stannis sneered without bothering to temper his sarcasm.

 

Sansa abruptly removed her hand from Stannis’, her smile fading.  Stannis could feel the chill in her mood and he genuinely regretted his accusatory tone.

 

“I thought I could trust you, but it seems that I was mistaken.  You’re not only rude but incompetent.  I shouldn’t need to keep reminding you to call me by my given name in public.”

 

They were interrupted by the appearance of the waiter asking if they would like to order.

 

“I can translate if you’d─” Sansa offered.

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Stannis interrupted, then proceeded to order for them both in flawless Russian.  He ordered vodka, caviar, and blinis for starters, followed by cucumber salad, roasted hare with stewed prunes, and an expensive imported French wine.  He glanced at Sansa and was pleased to note her eyebrow arch slightly in surprise.

 

“I’m not incompetent, Alayne,” Stannis answered after the waiter had gone, “I don’t like the fact that this cover of ours was Baelish’s idea.  I also don’t like the fact that he’s recruited you to spy for him.”

 

“Is that why you’re being so rude?  Because you don’t trust Petyr?  Or is it because you don’t trust me?  If you’re trying to be chivalrous and protect my innocence, please don’t bother.  I may appear young but I became an adult when I lost both my parents and was sent to the state home for orphans.”

 

Stannis couldn’t tell her the truth.  He wasn’t sure of the reason himself.  Was it because there was something unseemly about playing the lecherous older man with a young mistress?  Or was it because his role of lecherous older man wasn’t an act at all?  On some level Stannis had to admit that he was attracted to Sansa and the thought of it was not only unsettling, but dangerous.

 

“I don’t like surprises,” he answered finally.  “First Petyr surprised me with you, and then you surprised me with that note.  Right now I don’t trust anyone ─ suspicion comes with the job.”

 

“As you said, this cover was Petyr’s idea.  I’m trying to make the best of it too.”  Leaning in closely, she added in a soft voice, “Now if you don’t start being more attentive, I’m going to think that you aren’t attracted to me.” 

 

She slipped a hand beneath the table and squeezed his knee which produced a wave of warmth that went surging up his leg.

 

“I doubt that there is a man in this room who isn’t attracted to you,” he stated honestly.

 

“That’s rather the point, isn’t it?  I’m playing a role, but it’s becoming rather difficult to play by myself.”

 

Stannis studied her carefully but couldn’t tell whether she was angry or simply teasing him.  She _was_ good at this.

 

“I was paying you a compliment, not trying to continue an argument.”

 

“Was it a compliment?  Maybe it’s just the translation, but I find it difficult to distinguish between your compliments and your insults, Stannis.” 

 

Stannis clenched his jaw, biting off another smart reply that might escalate the tension between them.  Sansa was right, damn it.  He was being rude and unprofessional.  Whatever Baelish had asked her to do, or had done to her, wasn’t Sansa’s fault.  She had been a child when Baelish had taken her from the orphanage.  He was trying not to think too much about her life under Baelish’s influence because it would only make him angrier.  She was playing her role as all of them had agreed.  Moreover, she had asked for his help and he must allow her to earn his trust.

 

“I apologize,” he said simply.  “Shall we call a truce?”

 

“Nothing would make me happier,” Sansa declared, touching his hand lightly with her perfectly manicured fingers and meeting his eyes with a look that was half amusement and half seduction.  Stannis felt his cheeks warm despite his efforts to remain unaffected.  She was very good at her job, he had to admit.

 

~~~

 

As the courses came and went, Sansa tried not to overindulge.  The food was rich and decadent and the alcohol all too potent as was befitting the restaurant’s reputation.  She drank sparingly and only swallowed a few bites of each of the delicacies.  The stress of the mission was taking its toll on her stomach, which had remained in a constant state of near rebellion for most of the day.  With Petyr’s men watching and Trant’s men watching she couldn’t afford to make a mistake.  She had to play her part just right ─ convince Petyr that she was following his orders, _and_ convince Stannis that she was following his.  So far both men had the same agenda, but soon their paths would diverge.  Then, while they were busy battling each other, in the chaos she would find a way out ─ she had to.

 

Sansa noticed that Stannis wasn’t drinking much either, merely sipping at his wine.  He was being careful not to dull his wits, yet he had taken her advice and was acting more attentive.  She continued to flirt with him, laughing and touching his arm between courses and he leaned in close, bringing her fingers to his lips for a brief kiss and a gentle squeeze as he gazed meaningfully into her eyes.  Anything more would be considered crass in such elegant surroundings.  Sansa was surprised that she found playing the part of Stannis’ mistress so enjoyable.  When on similar assignments for Petyr, she was usually anxious and ready to get it over with.  She loathed being in the company of men like Janos Slynt, even though she relished attending dress balls and other formal gatherings.  This assignment was different.  She found Stannis attractive and interesting.  She was curious about him and his background, but a little voice told her to tread carefully.  She couldn’t afford to place too much trust in him, or start to like him too much.  Still, it couldn’t hurt to gather as much information as he was willing to divulge.

 

“Tell me about yourself, Stannis.  Where were you born?”  Sansa tried to keep her tone light.  Stannis’ reproachful glare indicated that he didn’t find the question appropriate.

 

“I’m originally from Ohio, but my father was a diplomat and we moved to Berlin when I was very young,” he answered politely.  That was his cover story.  She wasn’t going to find out anything personal that easily.

 

“What were you like as a boy?  Do have brothers or sisters?”

 

“Two brothers.  Both died many years ago.”

 

Sansa knew that it was standard procedure to keep your cover story as close to the truth as possible in order to avoid getting caught out in a lie.  This was probably a true statement although Stannis was reluctant to dish out the details.

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

“Don’t be.  It was an innocent question.  As I said, it has been a long time.”

 

Sansa allowed a moment to show she was sincere before attempting to lighten the mood. 

 

“Were you the oldest?  My guess is that you were quite bossy as a child,”  Sansa remarked, her eyes twinkling.

 

Stannis’ lips twitched and he nearly laughed.  “I was in the middle and my older brother would have probably agreed with you.” 

 

He leaned in and lowered his voice, managing to send a tingle of excitement straight to Sansa’s core. 

 

“But I want to know more about you, Alayne darling.  Tell me about yourself.”  His expression was saying, “Two can play this game.”

 

“What would you like to know?”

 

“You said your uncle didn’t allow you to have many friends.  What did you do for fun growing up?”

 

Sansa averted her eyes, it was an innocent question and one that didn’t reveal anything compromising.  Yet it felt frighteningly intimate to share personal details about her life with a man she knew so little about.  It would be simple to tell him a lie, yet something in Stannis’ manner made her tell him the truth.

 

“I read ─ Russian novels mostly ─ _War and Peace, Anna Karenina_.  I designed and sewed my own clothing,” Stannis nodded, lifting an eyebrow indicating that he was impressed.  “And I went to the cinema.”

 

“Oh?  What was your favorite film?  Let me guess - _The Battleship Potemkin_?” 

 

Sansa laughed.  It felt good to have Stannis tease her.   He was starting to seem almost human.

 

“No.  Actually I despise most Russian films.  My favorite is _High Noon_ , starring Princess Grace and Gary Cooper.  Have you seen it?”

 

She was surprised to observe the stunned look that came over Stannis’ face before he quickly recovered.  “You were able to watch American films here?”

 

“Oh yes, the Minister of Culture likes to make a point about how selfish and corrupt American society is.  The government allows a limited number of foreign films to be shown each year.” 

 

“What do you like about that film?  I didn’t think women enjoyed westerns.”

 

“That’s a very narrow-minded remark,” Sansa admonished, but with a smile.  “ _High Noon_ has so much to appeal to women.”

 

“Such as?”  Stannis looked skeptical and waited patiently as the waiter arrived with their after dinner espressos.  When he’d gone, Sansa answered.

 

“First of all, Cooper and Kelly make a stunning couple.  The whole story was very romantic.”

 

“He was quite a few years older than Grace Kelly in that film,”  Stannis remarked.

 

Was she imagining things, or did Stannis look uncomfortable?  He had begun running his finger over the rim of his cup and seemed suddenly interested in studying the lace border of his napkin.

 

“I don’t mind the age difference.  Gary Cooper was incredibly handsome,” Sansa felt her cheeks warm, talking about her movie star crush.  Stannis was considerably older than she was, probably a similar difference in age as the couple in the film, but Sansa had realized some time ago that she was attracted to older men.  Men her own age, from her admittedly limited interactions, seemed so childish and dull.  “Besides, even though Grace Kelly was young, she was every bit as brave and strong as he was.  She saved his life in the end, even though it cost her dearly.”

 

“How so?  They rode off together at the end.”

 

“She killed a man to save his life, although she was a pacifist.  She put love before her own principles.  I always wondered if she was ever able to put that behind her, or if it haunted her for years after.”

 

She looked into Stannis’ eyes and found him gazing back intently.  She started to feel self-conscious.  “I suppose you think it’s silly to like a film so much.”

 

“No I don’t.  I’m just surprised because it’s my favorite movie too.”

 

Sansa’s eyes widened.  Was he mocking her or telling the truth?  Her instincts told her he was being sincere.

 

“What makes it your favorite?”

 

Stannis hesitated, and shook his head slightly as if embarrassed. 

 

“Gary Cooper’s character, Will Kane, put duty above everything.  He saved the town, although no one stood by him─” Sansa shot him a look and he added, “─except for his wife at the end.  Everyone told him to leave ─ to save himself.  They all ran out on him and left him to die.  But he did his duty, because it was the right thing to do.  I admire that.”

 

Sansa studied his face in the soft candlelight of the restaurant and felt something swell inside her chest.  Was this who Stannis Baratheon really was?  Was he an honorable man who placed duty before everything?  Was he actually a man she could trust with her life?  Logic told her that it was just a film and Stannis was no real-life Gary Cooper, and yet she wanted so much for it to be so.  They were interrupted by the waiter again before she could consider it further.

 

“Whenever you are ready,” he passed Stannis a silver tray with an elegant envelope.

 

Stannis removed the bill and, tucked inside it, a business card.  He pulled his reading glasses from his breast pocket.  He paused, reading carefully before enclosing a stack of rubles in the envelope.  He turned to Sansa and, lowering his voice, informed her, “The card was from Trant, with a message written on the back.  We are to meet at a club called Havana at midnight.  Do you know it?”

 

“Yes, it’s near the waterfront.  It’s a rough area of the city.  You’d better come armed.”

 

“I intend to,” Stannis replied.  He glanced at his watch.  “We have time to return to the flat and check with Davos about weapons.  You should inform Baelish of the meeting place.”

 

“I don’t have to,” Sansa glanced toward the two men who’d been conducting surveillance all evening and who were now lingering over drinks.  “Those two will surely be following us, and I’m certain that Sandor, my bodyguard, is somewhere outside.  I assume you’ll have your team watching us as well.   It’s a good bet that everyone in Minsk will know where we’re headed.”

 

“Then shall we go?”  Stannis stood and helped Sansa with her chair.  She couldn’t help the feeling of regret that possessed her unexpectedly.  She had actually been enjoying herself with Stannis.  This had been one of the best ─ no, _the_ best evening she’d had in recent memory.  She knew it had to end, they had work to do.  The rest of the night would most certainly prove to be more dangerous and far less enjoyable, but she hoped that if everything went well she would be one step closer to freedom.


	6. Chapter 6

 

When they arrived at the club, shortly before midnight, the party was already in full swing.  A cheesy crooner sporting a pompadour ─ a Belarusian Sinatra ─ was pouring his heart out on the small stage while vodka flowed freely at the bar and each of the crowded tables.  Women in short skirts and fur stoles draped themselves over balding men wearing ill-fitting suits.  Sansa tried not to wrinkle her nose from the overwhelming scent of sweat, cheap perfume and cigarette smoke.

 

“After closing, about one a.m., it will turn into a strip club,” Sansa explained.  She held Stannis’ arm and leaned close to his ear, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the din of music and drunken conversation.  “Publically, the police pretend to crack down on such establishments, making a few arrests every month or so, but politicians like Petyr look the other way because it brings in revenue.”

 

Stannis nodded as they both squinted, searching the dimly lit club for Trant.  Gendry stood just behind them, playing bodyguard and doing his best to look menacing.  He was wearing a transmitter so that Davos and Melisandre, waiting outside in the car, could hear if things went wrong.  Stannis had decided it was too dangerous for he or Sansa to be wired, just in case they were searched.  Sansa also knew that both Stannis and Gendry were armed, and she wasn’t certain that it made her feel any safer.  Another western film she had seen came to mind, _Gunfight at the O.K. Corral_ , and with it came a feeling of apprehension that made her palms sweat and her stomach churn.  It didn’t help that her preparations with Petyr informed her that Trant was a dangerous and unpredictable man. 

 

“Petyr told me that Trant once thought a man was cheating him at cards and he slit the man’s throat with a broken vodka bottle right there at the table.” Sansa shared, squeezing Stannis’ arm a little tighter.

 

“Sounds like a real fun guy,” Gendry deadpanned, eyes moving restlessly over the crowd. 

 

Sansa knew that she would be somewhat safe because she was under the umbrella of Petyr’s protection, but this could be a life-or-death situation for the Americans.  If Trant became suspicious, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Stannis and any hope of her escape would die with him.  She was relying on the assumption that Stannis was very good at his job.  Her instincts told her that he was. 

 

As if sensing her anxiety, Stannis placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back.  Sansa met his gaze.  His clear blue eyes were a refreshing jolt of color in this grey and dingy place and actually made her feel better.

 

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, with a note of concern in his voice.

 

Sansa took a deep breath and nodded, offering him a fleeting smile.  Her heart was racing, but she knew that was a typical reaction to the pills she had taken.  It was worth it for their calming effect which she knew that she would experience soon.  She was certain she could not have forced herself to do this otherwise.  Alayne was in control now, and she had no use for frightened Sansa. 

 

“Of course.  This is what we’ve been preparing for.”  If he thought she would back out or panic like an amateur, he was sorely mistaken.  Sansa knew she was still proving herself to him and the next few hours would be an important test for them both.  “Over there at the end of the bar,” she directed the attention of her two companions by pointing.

 

“That isn’t Trant,” Stannis argued.  “I’ve studied his photo.”  He glanced at Gendry who shook his head slightly for confirmation.

 

“That’s his Lieutenant Kommendant, Mandon Moore.”

 

“Ah, yes.  I’ve seen photos of them together.  I didn’t recognize him with the beard.”

 

“Trant has one now too.  Your surveillance photos are out of date.  How fortunate that you have me with you,” Sansa teased. 

 

Stannis flashed her an irritated scowl, but Sansa thought she detected a hint of admiration in his eyes.  For some strange reason it pleased her more than it should. 

 

“Trant will be in a back room.  There is gambling in the back.” 

 

Sansa gave Stannis’ arm a gentle tug and he escorted her through the crowd.

 

“I suspect that you won’t be allowed to accompany us to the back,” Stannis whispered to Gendry.  “Stay out here and keep your ears open.”

 

Sansa couldn’t help but notice the leers of several men as she passed.  In her evening gown and fur coat, it was obvious that she was too classy for a place like this and she stood out from the rest of the patrons.  Most likely Trant had chosen this spot to meet because it reinforced the fact that this was his domain, not theirs.  As they approached Moore, a burly fellow standing next to him stepped forward and blocked their path.  Gendry stepped forward and stared him down.

 

“What do you want?” Moore’s bodyguard demanded in Russian.

 

“We’re here at the request of General Trant,” Stannis said calmly, with hardly a trace of an American accent.  He kept his demeanor relaxed, but Sansa felt his grip on her arm tighten. 

 

“Perhaps you could take us to him?”

 

“Let them pass, Yoren,” Moore ordered.  Yoren shuffled out of the way.  Sansa felt a shiver of dread creep up her spine as the man at the bar studied her.  He was tall and thin, with pale skin and the coldest eyes she’d ever looked into.  She quickly glanced at Stannis as the man spoke directly to him, confirming his identity.

 

“My name is Moore, the general’s associate.  I understand you want to buy some merchandise ─ some weapons perhaps.  I am fully authorized to negotiate with you on his behalf.”

 

“You know what I’m here for, and I’ll only negotiate with General Trant,” Stannis growled, meeting Moore’s gaze unflinchingly.  “I suggest that you take me to him at once ─ or maybe he doesn’t need my money?”

 

The threat was persuasive, and although Moore acted unimpressed, he sniffed once and said, “As you wish.  Follow me.”  He glanced at Gendry and added, “Your watchdog can stay here.”

 

They were led down a dark hallway past the single toilet which smelled faintly of urine and vomit.  Sansa tried to hold her breath until they arrived at a door at the end of the hall.  Moore rapped three times and the door opened to reveal another hazy, smoke-filled room.  A large man with a full beard was sitting at a table with a group of men playing backgammon.  Several scantily clad women were scattered around them, unenthusiastically observing the men.  Everyone in the room seemed to be smoking either a cigarette or a cigar and there was no ventilation.  Sansa vowed to wash the smell of smoke out of her dress and her hair as soon as she returned home.

 

“Wait here,” Moore instructed, leaving them at a corner table that was covered with bottles of vodka and shot glasses ─ obviously the makeshift bar.   Moore crossed the room to where Trant was sitting and whispered something into his ear.  Trant nodded curtly and Moore motioned for Stannis and Sansa to approach.

 

“So you are the businessman from Berlin?”

 

“Stannis Baratheon.”  Stannis held out his hand but Trant ignored it.

 

“Your passport says that you are American.”  


“I live in Berlin now but I have dual citizenship.  I find the business opportunities there are far more lucrative.”

 

“You speak English, no?” Trant suddenly switched from Russian to English.  “Unlike my uneducated comrades, I speak English.”

 

“We can speak in Russian so everyone can understand.”

 

“No, I will speak your language, Mr. Baratheon, so that there will be no misunderstandings.” 

 

Trant laughed and stood up as he won the game and collected his winnings.  He motioned for one of his guards to take their coats and after a quick pat down the man removed Stannis’ firearm as well.  Trant nodded to the man to leave them before turning his full attention to Stannis and Sansa.  He looked Sansa up and down with an appraising eye as if she were a steak he was about to consume.

 

“I see you have been enjoying our Soviet hospitality.”  He directed his comments to Stannis without ever taking his eyes off of Sansa.  “The women in Minsk are quite lovely, no?” 

One of the women at a nearby table, apparently jealous, draped herself over the general, who was now staring quite blatantly at Sansa’s breasts. Ignoring his female companion, the general continued, “Perhaps we make a trade of another kind?”

 

Stannis’ arm slipped around Sansa’s waist and possessively pulled her closer.

 

 “I don’t think so,” he snapped.  “I came here to talk business, General Trant.  Shall we get to it?”

 

“Nonsense!”  Trant laughed.  “It is considered rude in my country to do business without first enjoying the hospitality of your host.  First we drink!” 

 

He crooked a finger and a tray with a bottle of vodka and glasses appeared.  Trant’s lady friend rolled her eyes and returned to her friends at a nearby table, seemingly bored with the proceedings now that Trant’s focus was off Sansa.

 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t drink vodka,” Stannis stated politely.

 

Trant looked at Stannis as if he’d said he’d just landed on the moon. 

 

“Everybody drinks vodka in Minsk.  If you don’t drink, I will consider it a personal insult.”

 

Trant’s eyes were coal black and his voice was cold.  Sansa fought to ignore the queasy feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach.  She watched as Trant quickly filled the glasses nearly to overflowing.  She grabbed one and practically shoved it into Stannis’ hand.

 

“Here, darling,” she cajoled, smiling sweetly.  She took a glass of her own and met Trant’s gaze. 

 

“Za vashee zda-ró-vye!” she cried, “To your health!”  Raising her glass to both men in turn, she quickly downed the shot.  Stannis and Trant both watched as she licked her lips and placed the glass upside down on the tray.  The tension broken, Stannis and Trant raised their glasses to each other and downed their shots in silence.

 

“Another,” Trant insisted, filling three more glasses.  “Za zhén-shsheen!” he shouted, leering at Sansa. 

 

Sansa glanced at Stannis, who replied, “To women,” before swallowing the clear liquid. 

 

As Trant began to pour a third round, Sansa’s queasiness had turned to fear.  What if Stannis and she became intoxicated to the point that they couldn’t function?  Clearly that was Trant’s goal.  She hated to envision what would happen to her at this club if she were to pass out and Stannis wasn’t able to intervene.  She started to drink her shot and then suddenly spat it out onto the floor in a dramatic fit of laughter.  “I’m sorry!  It went up my nose!  I’ve had too much tonight.  I can’t possibly keep up with you men,” she giggled, trying her best to act like the helpless female Trant assumed she was.  She provided Trant a good view of her cleavage as she leaned forward a bit wobbly and pretended to inspect her dress for stains.  Her tactics must have distracted Trant sufficiently because he laughed and motioned toward the backgammon table.

 

“Perhaps we should sit.  Do you play?” he asked, directing his question toward Stannis.

 

Stannis looked resigned to wasting time on socializing with Trant and nodded.  “I hope you’re ready to lose a lot of rubles.”

 

Sansa relaxed a little and settled herself close to Stannis, who had removed his dinner jacket and placed it around Sansa’s shoulders.  Despite the oppressive warmth of the room, Sansa was grateful since it covered her somewhat from Trant’s uncomfortable gaze.  For the next hour she watched as the two men played game after game, drinking vodka and smoking cigars.  Stannis appeared to be letting Trant win the majority, while still proving to be a respectable opponent and acting appropriately upset when he lost.  It seemed to her that Stannis was passing Trant’s test of manliness. 

 

Trant declared that the next game would be their last when Stannis suddenly leaned toward her and announced, “I need a kiss for luck!”

 

She quickly responded, offering him a sultry stare and blatantly wetting her lips with her tongue before welcoming his mouth against hers.  Although his breath was heavy with vodka and the staged kiss was a little sloppy, she had to admit she enjoyed it more than she expected.  She and felt herself smiling at Stannis, her gaze lingering on his face as he pulled away.  The drunken men watching them cheered, until Trant’s irritated stare silenced them.

 

“You’ll need more than a kiss to defeat me,” Trant snarled, rolling the dice.

 

The game seemed close at first but in the end Trant won, taking the final pot of rubles as Stannis angrily cursed his luck.

 

Trant lit another cigar as he counted his winnings in full view of Stannis, showing off. 

 

“Enough, everyone out!”  He signaled to his men, who cleared the room of the remaining drunken men and women, some staggering and grumbling slurred protests.  Two guards remained in the room with the general.

 

“Now we talk business,” Trant stated.  “What you want to buy, the radioactive waste or as you say, dirty water  ─ this does not come cheap.  It is not easy to procure and it is not easy to transport.  You will need access, transportation, security, and permits.”

 

“This is why we’ve come to you, General Trant.  You have all these things, do you not?  My consortium in Berlin have money and I am prepared to make you an offer.  We simply need to agree on the price and the method of delivery,” Stannis countered.

 

“Da,” Trant nodded thoughtfully scratching his beard.  “Why do you want this material so badly?”

 

“That is none of your concern,” Stannis replied calmly.  “Although I suppose if you have friends in West Berlin you may want to tell them to move.”

 

Sansa studied Stannis’ face and was impressed by just how convincing he was at playing the part of an international crime boss.  She studied Trant and he seemed persuaded.

 

“Very well, I will introduce you to my associate from Moscow.  He has a dacha a few miles outside the city and he will be there this weekend.  He will negotiate the final arrangements.”

 

“What associate?” Stannis asked and Sansa could hear the tension in his voice. 

 

She glanced at him but he was focused on Trant.  This was not the plan.  Sansa tried to remain calm but she could feel Stannis tense beside her.  Trant was the man they were supposed to deal with, they hadn’t accounted for the possibility that he might have a partner.  This could change everything. 

 

“I was told that you were the man with all the authority in this matter.  We were to come to a final agreement tonight!”

 

“Nyet.  It is not possible,” Trant argued, waving his hand dismissively.  “My associate is high-level official on the committee for the utilization of atomic energy.  He has access to the product you wish to purchase and he does not do business with any man he has not met in person.  If you wish to conduct business with us, you will be here Saturday morning and we will drive to the dacha together.”

 

Sansa realized that Stannis would have no choice but to agree.  They had to find out the identity of this mystery official, the entire operation depended upon it.  She wondered if Petyr knew.  Had he betrayed Stannis already?  Her heart began to race once again, the feeling of panic rising within her.

 

“I’m bringing my bodyguard and two associates this time,” Stannis stated firmly, apparently coming to the same conclusion that Sansa had.

 

“Da.  I understand you need to feel safe,” Trant smirked, “The dacha is very big, with many rooms, a sauna, and stables too.  It will be a holiday.  Bring your woman if you like,” he added, gesturing toward Sansa.

 

Stannis was about to object, when Sansa interrupted, “Yes, I’d love to come.  Thank you, General Trant.”

 

Stannis glared at Sansa but she pretended not to notice.  She had never been to a country estate before and that coupled with the possibility of spending more time with Stannis was worth making him a little angry.  Besides, he needed her help whether he thought so or not.

 

“Until Saturday then,” Stannis nodded to Trant and suddenly one of his men appeared with their coats and Stannis’ gun.  Sansa felt both elated and relieved as she took a step toward the door, they were about to make it out of the meeting relatively unscathed.  Her happiness was short-lived when Trant grabbed her arm.

 

“The woman will stay with me until our next meeting.  Call it an insurance policy.” 

 

The general pulled her roughly against him before Stannis could make a move to stop him.   Stannis’ eyes narrowed and he looked as if he were about to reach for his weapon.  Sansa stopped breathing when Trant’s thugs pulled their guns first.  Was this a trick ─ an easy excuse to kill Stannis?  There was nothing Stannis could do and, glancing at his face, Sansa knew he realized it too.

 

“That isn’t possible.  You can ask her politely, but unless she wants to stay, I’m taking her home,” Stannis stated, his voice eerily calm.

 

Sansa searched his face, attempting to decipher his thoughts.  His eyes held hers for one brief moment of intensity and then quickly shifted to Trant.  Stannis seemed to be indicating that she should make the next move.  Sansa forced herself to think, ignoring her panic. It took her a second but then she had the answer. She seized the opportunity before Trant could object, speaking quickly to diffuse the situation.  Instead of struggling, she remained calm and turned her head to face the general.

 

“General Trant, I don’t believe that we were properly introduced.  My name is Alayne Stone.  I’m Comrade Petyr Baelish’s niece.  I’m sure you know my uncle — he serves on the Communist Central Committee.” 

 

Her own tense smile grew wider as she watched Trant’s smug smile slowly collapse.  Apparently Trant had not been informed of her identity before the meeting.  Trant immediately released his grip on her arm and she moved next to Stannis, glancing at him briefly, reassuring him with her eyes that she was okay.

 

“You should have told me who you were, Miss Stone,” Trant scolded half-heartedly.  “You must invite your uncle to the dacha.  I’m sure he will find it relaxing.”

 

“I will give him your invitation.  Now it’s getting late and my uncle will be worried if I’m not home soon.  Good night, General Trant.”

 

“Good night, Miss Stone ─ Mr. Baratheon.  I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

 

Something about his tone made Sansa shiver as Stannis escorted her from the room.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Thursday, December 9th, 1965 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

 

Stannis’ head was spinning by the time they made it through the noisy nightclub-turned-stripclub and out the door.  Despite the pill he’d taken to counter the effects of the vodka, he still had a significant buzz.  It had taken every ounce of concentration he had to get through the meeting with Trant.  Now it was only the rush of adrenaline and the shock of cold night air that allowed him to focus.  He wanted nothing more than to go back to the flat and fall into bed, but he had one more item on the agenda before he could rest.  He needed to have a talk with Sansa about her request for his help.  So far she’d managed to offer the bare minimum by way of explanation.  He knew what her favorite movie was but not if she were truly willing to defect.  If push came to shove, would she be on his side or Petyr’s?

 

Stannis and Sansa crossed the street with Gendry close on their heels.  Headlights flashed twice at them from the nearby alley.  Stannis recognized the signal from Davos and Melisandre awaiting their return.

 

“Gendry, have Davos and Melisandre drive you back to the flat.  We have much to discuss.  I’m going to walk back with Alayne,” Stannis instructed.

 

Gendry gave him a curious look but nodded hesitantly and quickly disappeared into the dark alleyway. 

 

“Why did you send the car away?” Sansa asked.  She appeared curious but not upset.

 

“We need to talk and I prefer to do it in private.  Besides, I could really use some fresh air after being stuck in that disgusting room for the last ninety minutes.” 

 

Truthfully, he wasn’t ready to face the barrage of questions from the team upon his return, and some part of him wanted to spend more time alone with Sansa but he wasn’t going to admit that to her.  He took her arm and they walked at a leisurely pace down the nearly deserted street.  

 

“Let’s sit for a few minutes.  I need to clear my head before we go back,” Stannis suggested as they reached the park. 

 

 He brushed the powdery layer of newly fallen snow from a park bench and the two sat.  Sansa snuggled close to him and wrapped her arms around his left arm, laying her head against his shoulder.  To anyone watching they were an ordinary couple at the end of a romantic night out.

 

“I’m sure that we’re still being followed,” she pointed out as if reading his thoughts.  But it didn’t really matter to Stannis if they were being watched or not.  They’d accomplished what they’d set out to accomplish that evening and now he could relax ─ if only for a brief moment.

 

They sat on the bench in silence, their breath visible in the crisp cold air under the illumination of a nearby streetlamp.  The snow lining the paths and decorating the trees magnified the sense of stillness, of being insulated from the rest of the city.  Stannis’ head was still foggy, and he was experiencing the beginnings of a killer headache.

 

“Now that we’re alone, do you want to tell me what the note was all about?  Do you want us to help you get away from Baelish?  Do want to seek asylum in the United States?”  Stannis asked abruptly. 

 

He didn’t really want to have a serious discussion, but it was necessary and now was as good a time as any.  They’d just been through an extremely tense situation together and somehow he felt closer to her at that moment than he had just a few hours earlier. 

 

Unfortunately, it seemed that the subject was not an easy one for Sansa and she continued to offer very little in the way of explanation.

 

“It’s true that I asked for your help in escaping from Petyr,” she began hesitantly.  “But it’s also more complicated than simply seeking asylum.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I promise I’ll explain everything when the time is right,” she offered evasively, then continued before he could question her further.  “You were quite impressive tonight,” she said with a hint of amusement.  “Trant was certain that he could drink you under the table but you held your own.  I think that you surprised him.”

 

“I had a little help from an antidote developed by our intelligence agency.  It wasn’t quite as effective as I’d hoped.”  Stannis turned his head to look at her and winced as the movement caused his head to throb.  Sansa was unable to stifle a laugh.

 

“I’m happy that you find my pain so amusing,” he complained, but his lips curled into a half-smile.  As he studied her face he found some solace in how beautiful she looked under the soft lamplight.  “You were pretty impressive yourself.  You were able to stay calm and think fast under tense circumstances.  Also, Trant was quite taken with you.  You were every bit the sophisticated mistress.”

 

“Petyr trained me well.  I’ve been playing similar parts for a number of years.”

 

Stannis hesitated before asking the delicate question that had worried him since he’d met the young woman. 

 

“Did he ─ has he abused you?”

 

Sansa laughed, a dry sound lacking mirth.  He regretted asking the question as her expression instantly darkened.

 

“There are many forms of abuse, as I’m sure you are aware.” 

 

Her eyes left his and stared into the distance for a long moment before she composed herself and offered him a wane smile.  For once Stannis thought he could see through the performance and catch a glimpse of the vulnerable woman Sansa truly was, but the moment passed and he couldn’t be sure.   When she looked at him again, her face was an unreadable mask.

 

“I’ve always lived in a nice flat and had nice clothes to wear and enough food to eat.  What more could a poor orphan wish for?”

 

Stannis frowned, irritated by her constant deflection of his questions.  He equated vagueness with deception.  If Sansa truly wanted his help, then why was she being so damned evasive?  They had worked as a team this evening, and had managed to survive a dangerous situation.  Stannis was annoyed that Sansa still didn’t seem to trust him.

 

“Don’t you ever drop the facade, Miss Stark?” he asked pointedly, using her real name.

 

“Do you, Mr. Baratheon?” she responded with a practiced smile.  “Do you honestly believe I should trust a man I hardly know when it is obvious that you do not trust me?  We must be cautious for good reason.  Given the circumstances of our acquaintance, we both know how difficult it is to distinguish between what is real and what is an illusion.”

 

Stannis stared into her luminous eyes fringed by impossibly long lashes.  He was suddenly filled with sadness that she was so jaded at such a young age.  He felt disgusted with himself and the profession that forced him to lie and kill in order to protect the innocent.  Was Sansa one of the innocent or an enemy?  He wanted nothing more than to speak plainly, to cut through all the bullshit and get to the truth.  But it seemed that there was more than a language barrier between them — they were both playing a game where revealing the truth could prove fatal. 

 

It had begun to snow again and he watched as a large flake fell upon her lip and instantly melted into a bead of liquid.  He reached with his gloved hand, swiping his thumb slowly across her lower lip.  Her mouth looked extremely inviting and utterly kissable.  For once Sansa was looking at him not like a savvy spy playing a part, but like a beautiful young woman who wanted to be kissed.  Before he could think twice about it, he leaned down and pressed his cold lips against her surprisingly warm ones.  He felt her breath catch, and he paused for a moment, lips touching but not moving, until with a small sigh she relaxed into the kiss, allowing it to deepen into something much more meaningful than a chaste peck.  He turned his head slightly, sucking gently on her lower lip and felt the briefest brush of her tongue before slowly pulling away.

 

“That was real,” he whispered, his lips still close enough to be warmed by her breath.  “That one wasn’t for show.  I wanted to kiss you, Sansa.” 

 

But even as he said it, in the back of his mind Stannis wondered if it was the real Sansa Stark who had kissed him back ─ or was it just an illusion?  Would he ever be able to tell the difference?  Out of the corner of his eye, past the trees, he noticed a brief flash of light from a parked car ─ someone lighting a cigarette.  They were still being watched.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you've all been waiting patiently and leaving such great comments, and because this is a short chapter, I'm posting on an off day. We're starting to get into the "feelings" now. Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

 

“We need to find out the identity of the atomic energy official before we commit to the meeting at the dacha.  We could very well be walking into a trap,” Davos argued as soon as they were all seated in the living area of the flat.  Stannis had just finished filling them in on the details of what had transpired during the meeting with General Trant.

 

“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Melisandre replied, lighting a cigarette.  “There has to be a roster of all the members on file.”

 

“I’m sure that the Soviets would be happy to provide that to us if we ask politely,” Davos quipped.

 

“Nuclear power is a hot topic worldwide and the Soviets love to promote their achievements.  I’m sure that a delegation would have attended the recent atomic energy conference in Geneva.  I would start there,” Melisandre countered, earning a grin of approval from Davos.

 

Perched on the arm of the sofa, Sansa listened to the team and found herself liking the Americans.   Their easy banter and the way that they obviously respected each other’s opinion made her long to experience that kind of friendship; but she knew she was an outsider, not to be trusted.  Sadly, she knew they were right not to trust her.  There might come a time when she would have to choose between their lives and her own.  She glanced at Stannis, who sat in an armchair.  The way he kept pinching the bridge of his nose and the fact that he was uncharacteristically quiet made her wonder if his headache still bothered him.  When he excused himself to the kitchen she left the others to their planning and followed.  She found him downing some aspirin and a large glass of water.

 

“Still hurting?”

 

“Mm,”  Stannis nodded, wincing as he did so.

 

He didn’t react when she removed the glass from his hand and set it on the countertop and casually placed a hand on his chest.  He only stared at her as if he were confused.  He _did_ react when she leaned up and kissed him, pressing her body against his, effectively trapping him between herself and the stove.

 

“Sansa, what are you doing?” he demanded in a whisper, pulling his mouth away, but not _too_ far away, and not after allowing their lips to connect a little _too_ long to convince her that he didn’t want it.  His hands moved to her hips and he gently pushed her away; but again, not _too_ far away, she noted as he glanced toward the doorway, his hands still resting on her hips.

 

“They can’t see us,” Sansa assured him.  Admittedly the thought of getting caught caused a rush of excitement that made her heart beat faster, and judging from Stannis’ conflicted expression he felt it as well.  She moved in again, this time more slowly, allowing him time to process what she was doing.

 

“That isn’t the point,” he murmured against her lips.

 

“What is the point?” she murmured back, not waiting for the reply as she kissed him more firmly than before.  He returned the kiss, unable to disguise his desire for her this time and she closed her eyes briefly and allowed herself a moment to simply enjoy the feel and the taste of him.  She ignored a pang of guilt.  This was her assignment, wasn’t it?  Was it wrong to enjoy it for once? 

 

His kiss in the park had been a sign that she was making an impression on him, and to her surprise it had made an impression on her also.  When he’d kissed her she’d felt it throughout her entire body.  It had been unlike anything she’d experienced, even if she counted fantasies about film stars entertained late at night alone in her bed.  Fueled by the adrenaline rush of their dangerous encounter with Trant, the kiss had awoken something inside that she’d wanted to explore further, but it had ended too soon.  Now, her instincts told her that this was the time to use her feminine powers of persuasion and convince Stannis to trust her, and to satisfy her own curiosity as well.  To her frustration, again Stannis broke the kiss, pushing her away more firmly this time.  He yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his lips roughly to remove all traces of her lipstick.

 

“The point is that I made a mistake.  I shouldn’t have kissed you in the park like that.”

 

“You did nothing wrong.  Kissing is in keeping with our cover,” Sansa argued, taking the handkerchief from him and dabbing at a spot he’d missed at the corner of his mouth.  She noticed the scowl had returned.  He’d looked so relaxed when they’d gazed into each other’s eyes on the park bench.  Stannis was much more handsome when his expression was unguarded rather than suspicious.

 

“Yes, but I led you to believe that there was something more to it than a fake kiss and for that I apologize.  There can’t be anything more between us than a professional relationship, Sansa.  I hope you understand that.”

 

“Call me Alayne.  You shouldn’t break cover, even when we’re alone,” Sansa snapped, a flush of heat rising to her cheeks.  After all, it was Alayne who was the brave one, the spy who manipulated men.  Hearing Stannis call her _Sansa_ made her feel vulnerable, and she definitely wasn’t going to let him make her feel vulnerable.  Why did he have to be so damned difficult?  Janos Slynt would have been eating out of her hand by now.  Although she wouldn’t want Slynt to kiss her, not in a million years. 

 

“You needn’t speak to me as if I’m a child.  Of course I know that our relationship is merely a professional one.  It doesn’t hurt to keep in character, and I did feel sorry that you were still in pain from our earlier adventure.”

 

She studied his face, his eyes were filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.  Was it regret for having kissed her ─ or disappointment perhaps?  Either way, Sansa felt it too.  It was for the best, she reminded herself.  She had been letting her guard down around him a little too much.  She couldn’t afford to become too attached to him, not without knowing what she might be forced to do.

 

“We should return to the others,” Stannis announced abruptly, after holding her gaze long enough for her to begin to reconsider her position.  A sinking feeling in her stomach told her that it might be too late to curb her growing affection for this man.

 

“Yes,” she answered, leading the way. 

 

She was suddenly feeling on edge, restless and irritable.  Was it too soon to take another pill?  When she returned to her seat on the arm of the sofa, Sansa purposefully avoided looking at Stannis.  She thought she noticed Davos examining the both of them a bit curiously but that could have easily been her imagination fueled by a guilty conscience. 

 

“It’s late,” Stannis declared to the group.  “Let’s get some sleep and we’ll continue this discussion tomorrow.  Gendry, drive Miss Stone home, please.”

 

Before Gendry could answer, Sansa replied, “That won’t be necessary.  My uncle’s man will be outside waiting.”

 

“Very well, Gendry can at least walk you out,” Stannis continued as Gendry fetched Sansa’s coat.  “Inform Baelish that we will need a list of the Russian delegates who attended the convention on atomic energy in Geneva last year.  It should be easy for him to obtain.   I trust he doesn’t know the name of Trant’s associate or he would already have informed us.  Perhaps you could find out if he’s been forthcoming with us on this matter?” 

 

Sansa didn’t miss the note of suspicion in his voice.

 

“I don’t think he knows, but I’ve already expressed my concerns regarding his trustworthiness.  I will try and find out any information that I can.”

 

Stannis nodded.  “We will meet again tonight for dinner and you can tell me everything you’ve learned.  Meet me here at eight.  Good night, Alayne.”

 

“Good night.”  Sansa pulled on her fur-lined gloves and allowed Gendry to escort her out, forcing herself not to take a last look at Stannis’ face.

 

~~~

 

 

After she’d gone, Stannis turned to Melisandre.  “Do you still have contacts in Moscow?  Contacts that are reliable?”

 

Melisandre tapped the ash from her cigarette and contemplated Stannis’ question.  “Yes, I know someone who might be willing to assist us.”

 

“See if you can obtain the names of the men in that delegation.  I want independent confirmation if possible.”

 

“A little test of Baelish’s loyalty?”  Melisandre smiled.  “I think that would be wise.”

 

“What about Sansa Stark?”  Davos questioned.  “Were you able to learn anything else about her motives for passing us that note?”

 

“No,” Stannis admitted.  “She deflected all of my questions and remained vague about it.”

 

“Should we trust her?”

 

“Not yet.” 

 

Though Stannis hated to admit it, Sansa Stark’s trustworthiness was still a big question mark.  Mentally he kicked himself for being so susceptible to her feminine charms.  She was incredibly attractive and it wasn’t like he led a completely monastic life.  However, this was a mission, and it wasn’t like him to let his emotions get in the way of good judgement.  Just because she seemed sincere and acted like she enjoyed his company didn’t necessarily mean that it was true.  If he trusted her and he was wrong, it could not only cost him his life, but the lives of his teammates. 

 

“We will continue to be vigilant around Miss Stark.  Don’t reveal any information that you wouldn’t want our adversaries to learn.  We need to make certain that she’s on the level and sooner rather than later.”

 

“I could ask my contact to check on her as well,” Melisandre offered.

 

“Who is this person?  Do you think he would have access to that sort of background information?”  Stannis asked skeptically.

 

“He’s well placed within the Central Committee in Moscow.  He has the ear of the General Secretary,” Melisandre explained, smiling when that bit of information caused Stannis to raise an eyebrow.  “I don’t know his name and we’ve never met face to face, but his code name is Varys.  I think he can find out what we want to know about Sansa Stark, and what happened to her father.”

 

“Why would Varys agree to help us?  What’s in it for him?” Davos asked, frowning.

 

“Let’s just say he owes me a favor,” Melisandre replied enigmatically.  “Depending upon the importance of the information, he may want something in exchange.  Varys is only willing to do what benefits him the most, but he’s always been willing to negotiate.  Unfortunately, getting that type of information may take some time.”

 

“Time isn’t on our side,” Stannis sighed.  “Contact Varys as soon as possible and see what you can accomplish.  Davos, what can we do about smuggling weapons into that dacha?  We will most certainly be searched.”

 

“We could manage it two ways as I see it,” Davos replied, leaning forward in his seat.  “We could bribe someone who works at the estate to smuggle them in for us and leave them hidden until we get there.  I don’t recommend it as our best option though.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Small country towns tend to be tight-knit communities.  I’m afraid that any attempt to bribe one of the workers, who will surely live in the surrounding town, will attract too much attention.  Also, the townsfolk will most likely be loyal to the man who employs them on a regular basis.”

 

“So not a good option,” Stannis stated, lips pursed thoughtfully.  “What about one of us posing as a deliveryman?  Someone delivering goods from Minsk and not something ordered locally?”

 

“That might work, but it would be dangerous.  The deliveryman would need to find a way to hide the package on the property without being seen.  I think it’s too risky.”

 

Stannis nodded his agreement.  “What is our alternative?”

 

“The other option is to smuggle the weapons in ourselves.  Trant wants us to meet up with him and drive to the dacha together.  We will have to follow him in our car because we won’t all fit in one vehicle.  We can stash the weapons in the car.”

 

“What about the search?  They won’t just let us drive in with a car full of guns,” Stannis argued.

 

“We’ll have to hide them carefully.  If we do it right, we can avoid detection.  The problem will be retrieving them once at the dacha.  The car will certainly be garaged and guarded.  Let me work on it a bit.  I’ll have a solution before Saturday,” Davos promised.

 

“Well, then I suggest that we turn in.  We all have a busy day ahead of us.”

 

As Gendry and Melisandre retreated down the hall to their sleeping quarters, Davos put a hand on Stannis’ arm.

 

“Did something happen between you and Sansa Stark that I should know about?” Davos queried, his brows knitted in concern.

 

Stannis stiffened, but didn’t flinch from the other man’s gaze.  “Nothing that should worry you,” he replied honestly.

 

Davos let go of his arm and adopted a softer tone.  “I get it.  You like her.  You have sympathy for her.  Hell, so do I.  It couldn’t have been easy for her, losing her parents and being raised by that unscrupulous _uncle_ of hers.  But if your feelings for her become more than sympathetic─” he let his words sink in before continuing, “If it affects the mission, it _is_ my concern.”

 

“Any feelings I may or may not have for Sansa Stark won’t affect the mission.  I give you my word,” Stannis vowed.  Davos nodded his acceptance before retiring to his room.

 

Stannis stood alone in the hallway, willing his mind not to dwell upon the image of himself kissing Sansa Stark in the kitchen.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

**Thursday, December 9th, 1965 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

 

“You’ve told me every name on the list?  You’re sure?”  Stannis questioned, as he and Sansa sat on the loveseat that was tucked away in a corner of the dimly lit lounge.  Sansa had suggested they enjoy their after-dinner drinks in a more private setting off the main dining room.  It gave them a chance to speak more freely and it bolstered their cover as lovers.  Sansa didn’t mind that Stannis had one arm around her and their legs were touching.  Although she was irritated with him for being so short with her again, Sansa couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his eyes were, sparkling in their intensity under the soft glow of candlelight.

 

“I memorized it, just as Petyr instructed.  Those were all the names,” she assured him.

 

“Did he seem surprised when you told him about Trant’s associate?”

 

“Petyr hides his emotions well.  He didn’t seem surprised but then I wouldn’t have expected it.  He acted intrigued.” 

 

She’d been over this with Stannis already, informing him in detail of Petyr’s responses to her story of their encounter with Trant.  What she hadn’t told Stannis was that Sandor had informed Petyr of their kiss in the park and that Petyr had also praised her for her good work.  _I think you have him under your spell, sweetling_ , he’d said.  _He’s vulnerable now_.

 

“You’re certain that this list is accurate?” Stannis continued, repeating himself.

 

“That is the list Petyr gave me.  I don’t know if he’s being completely honest with you — I’ve already told you that he only tells me what he wants me to know.  In that respect the two of you are alike,” Sansa snapped, tired of being interrogated and at the same time experiencing the dull gnawing of guilt in the pit of her stomach.  She wished that she could be honest with Stannis, that she could tell him the complete truth and pledge her loyalty to him, but she couldn’t yet take the risk.  A successful outcome for the Americans on this mission was still very uncertain, and yet the thought of betraying them bothered her more each day.  She was surprised when Stannis frowned at her.

 

“I’m nothing like Petyr Baelish,” he argued.  “I don’t know why you would make such a comparison.  Is that how you see me?”

 

Sansa felt her stomach sink as if she were riding a carousel ─ her typical reaction when she caught a glimpse of what the _real_ Stannis was thinking or feeling.  Had she actually offended him, or even hurt his feelings by comparing him to Petyr?

 

“From my point of view you are both trying to use me to your advantage and neither of you trusts me completely,” she answered honestly, allowing him a glimpse of her true self.  “I’m trying, Stannis.  I thought I proved my loyalty to you last night.  How much longer will it be until you believe what I tell you without endless interrogation?”

 

“What makes you think that I don’t believe you?” Stannis asked, but his inability to look her in the eyes told Sansa the truth.

 

Reaching up, Sansa ran a manicured nail along the line of his jaw, his late-evening stubble rough to the touch.  Startled by the contact, he met her gaze.  Slowly she let her finger trail down his neck, then leaning forward, she reached up with her other hand and began to loosen his tie.

 

“You’re always so stiff and formal, more like a policeman instead of a date.  I wish you would relax and have an honest conversation with me, but the only time we seem to trust each other is when we kiss.”  She heard his breath quicken when she lifted her chin and noticed him blatantly staring at her mouth.  Seizing the opportunity to attract him further, she wet her lips with a brief flick of her tongue.

 

“Do you believe me when I say that I enjoyed kissing you last night?” she whispered.  “That I enjoy being your mistress?”

 

He was definitely breathing harder now, she could feel it warming her mouth.

 

“But you aren’t,”  he murmured as she inched closer to his face.

 

“I’m not what?” She was smiling against his lips, a shiver of excitement trickling down her spine.

 

“My mistress.” he answered, tilting his head and parting his lips slightly as they brushed against hers.

 

“Pity,” she sighed as their mouths joined. 

 

Sansa closed her eyes and let her mind go blank, losing herself to the pleasurable sensation of Stannis’ lips covering hers.  This time there was no pretending, no thought of Petyr’s instructions, or of planning her escape.  This time there was only she and Stannis, the heat between them growing as they explored each other’s mouths without restraint.  She parted her lips to accept his tongue and the wet heat of it reached deep inside her, traveling straight through her belly and between her legs.  She shifted her body to get closer, releasing a frustrated moan as her hands found their way beneath his jacket and her fingers raked his back through his shirt.  His muscles were so hard, and tense.  He growled his approval as she began to knead them like a cat making its bed.  She wanted more of him, much more.  She could feel his hunger for her growing as well, his hands squeezing her bare shoulders and pulling her against him.  She could feel the tension in his strong fingers betraying the effort it cost him to be gentle and not to bruise her tender flesh.

 

Sansa’s eyes flew open as she heard a noise from nearby ─ the decorative beads covering the entrance to the lounge rattled and a man cleared his throat.  Stannis ripped his mouth from hers and turned away, removing his hands from her shoulders.  Sitting up straight, an irritated expression crossed Stannis’ face as they found Davos and Melisandre standing in front of them.

 

“Pardon the intrusion,” Davos began, acting as if he hadn’t interrupted anything at all.  “But we have news.”

 

As Davos and Melisandre took seats nearby, Sansa couldn’t help but notice the redheaded woman smiling at her and she thought she saw something akin to admiration in her exotic eyes.  She turned her attention to Davos, whose expression was more one of disapproval.  He held Stannis’ gaze for a moment before glancing at Sansa and back to Stannis.  Suddenly Sansa felt an awkward sense of being the odd woman out as she realized that Davos was waiting for permission to speak freely in her presence.  Despite all of her best efforts, the team still doubted her sincerity.

 

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” she offered, her tone frosty.  She stared at Stannis and noted that the man who had been kissing her passionately moments before had been replaced by professional Stannis ─ cool, calm and logical.

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Stannis replied.  “Davos and Melisandre wouldn’t have come here if your presence was an issue.  Go ahead, what did you find out?”

 

Melisandre spoke first.  “I’ve heard from Varys.  He was able to provide the list of delegates attending the atomic energy convention.”

 

Sansa frowned as she turned to look at Stannis but he cut her off before she could voice her displeasure. 

 

“I needed to verify that Baelish was cooperating fully with us.  This has nothing to do with our trust in you, Alayne.   If you would, please tell Melisandre and Davos the names that Petyr provided and we’ll see if they match.”

 

Sansa nodded and rattled off the list once again.  When she’d finished, Melisandre and Davos looked at her expectantly before exchanging glances with each other and finally Stannis.

 

“Well?”  Stannis demanded, sensing that there was more information.

 

“The lists are the same with one exception,” Davos explained.  “Varys listed an additional delegate.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Tywin Lannister.”

 

Stannis’ expression seemed to freeze on his face and for a moment he said nothing.  Then his eyes narrowed and he looked worried ─ extremely worried.

 

“You’re certain?”

 

“Yes,” Melisandre answered.  “We are in the process of running background checks on all of the members, but it’s an obvious concern that Petyr Baelish omitted Tywin Lannister from his list.  It could be an honest mistake though.  Do you know the name, Alayne?”

 

“No.  I’ve never met him or heard Petyr speak of him.”  Sansa shook her head, but her focus remained on Stannis.  There was something wrong.  Stannis appeared to be in shock.

 

“I know him,” Stannis spoke at last, clenching his jaw.

 

“You do?” Davos asked, eyes widening.  “How?  Who is Tywin Lannister?”

 

“A problem,” Stannis growled.  “A very serious problem.”

 

~~~

 

“I don’t understand.  How could Tywin Lannister know you?”  Davos was the one pacing for once.  Stannis had said nothing further until they had returned to the flat, leaving the others to wonder what had got him so upset.  The first words out of his mouth once they were safely inside were, “He knows me.”  Now he was sitting calmly on the sofa next to Sansa, staring at the carpeted floor as if it held the answers to everything, while Davos questioned him.  Melisandre lit a cigarette and Gendry stared out the window, both settling in to listen to Stannis’ explanation.

 

“It was in Berlin, after the war,” Stannis began in a monotone.  “The Soviets were consolidating their position in the city, trying to push the allied forces out.  I was working for Army intelligence back then ─ this was before the official creation of the CIA.  My superiors had arranged a meeting between our forces and the Soviets, attempting to negotiate an end to their occupation of West Berlin.”

 

“All of that was in the papers.   The Soviets finally gave in and handed over half the city,” Davos interjected.  “It wasn’t kept secret.”

 

“What wasn’t made public were the details of the agreement,”  Stannis continued.  “The Allied Forces held certain Nazi prisoners that the Soviets were interested in obtaining.  It was thought that handing them over might convince the Soviets to make concessions.”

 

“Why was intelligence involved?  Wasn’t this more the arena of the diplomatic corps?” Davos queried.

 

“The prisoners were scientists ─ physicists.”  Stannis looked up and held Davos’ gaze.

 

“The bomb?”

 

“Yes,” Stannis replied gravely.  “The Germans had been in a race to develop their own atomic bomb before we did.  They failed, but they still had a vast wealth of knowledge regarding nuclear technology.  The Soviets wanted it ─ they wanted these men.”

 

“Our side was willing to just give them up?” Davos asked incredulously.  “We would give that kind of classified intel to the communists?”

 

“In order to save West Berlin ─ maybe even West Germany?  It wasn’t my call to make, but the answer was obviously yes.  Someone with authority in our government was willing to make that trade.”

 

“How does Tywin Lannister fit into this story?”

 

“At the meeting there were several Soviet officers and a Commissar.  The Commissar was not like the others.  There was something about him that was almost regal.  The Red Army officers had a reputation of being sloppy, lax, not as disciplined as, say, the SS.  The officers at this meeting were just that, but not this man.  His appearance was striking.  He was tall, and dressed impeccably ─ you could see your reflection in his shoes.  His eyes were cold, intelligent ─ when he looked at you it seemed like he knew what you were thinking.  I’ll never forget him.  He was introduced as Tywin Tytosovich Lannister.  He was the one in charge.”

 

Everyone was silent for a moment until Melisandre spoke for the first time.

 

“He was introduced to you?  He knew your name?”

 

Stannis nodded his head, realizing what she was getting at.  “I see what you’re thinking.  No, he wasn’t given my name.  I was a junior officer, acting as aide to a two-star general ─ essentially a nobody in a meeting like that.  I stood in the back and kept quiet.  My job was only to provide information about the prisoners when needed.”

 

“So there is a good chance that he wouldn’t remember you,” Davos concluded.  “But are we willing to take that chance?”

 

“You are presuming that we have a choice,” Melisandre replied, frowning.  “Trant has already met Stannis.  We can hardly replace him, or disguise him.  We either abandon the plan or continue and take the risk that Lannister will blow Stannis’ cover.”

 

“We could come up with a new plan, although it would be dangerous to do so this far in,” Stannis suggested.

 

“Why does it matter?”  Everyone turned to focus their attention on Sansa, who had remained quiet throughout the discussion.

 

“What do you mean?”  Stannis asked with a note of impatience.  “If my cover is blown, the mission is finished and we risk being captured or worse.”

 

“If Tywin recognizes you, can’t you simply say that you were an officer at that time but you became disenchanted with the government and corrupt officials?  It makes sense that you might eventually find a more lucrative career running your own illegal enterprise.  That would explain your associations with criminals and terrorists.  That was twenty years ago.  People change.”

 

Stannis stared at Sansa, his lips involuntarily curling into a smile.  He was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to kiss her, but pushed the inappropriate thought from his mind and forced himself to look at Davos and Melisandre instead.   Their faces registered their approval.  A glance at Gendry revealed that he was smiling as well.  Stannis didn’t know why it meant so much to him that Sansa was proving her worth to the team, but it did.

 

“That solution was so obvious that it took someone with a fresh perspective to think of it.  Thank you, Alayne, for showing us that we weren’t seeing the forest by focusing too much on the trees.”

 

Sansa held his gaze and he thought he imagined a hint of red spread across her cheeks before her eyes moved away.  He wished they were alone.  He wanted to confront her ─ to force her to tell him everything she’d been keeping from him.  He felt that she wanted to be honest with him ─ the way she’d kissed him when they’d been alone in the lounge had convinced him.  That kiss wasn’t an act ─ nobody was that good.  She might lie to him with her words, but there was something in her eyes that had given her away.  If only he could get her alone.  Sadly, there wasn’t time at the moment.

 

“Well, that settles it.  I vote we continue to the dacha and meet with Lannister as planned,” Davos announced.

 

“Agreed,” Melisandre added, as Gendry nodded.  All eyes turned to Stannis for approval.

 

“Okay, I’m giving the green light to move forward,” Stannis declared.  “But we have much to do before Saturday morning.  We need to gather as much information about Tywin Lannister as possible.  Melisandre, can you check with Varys one last time?”

 

Melisandre smiled.  “Yes, but this time I think it will cost us.”

 

“Contact him again and keep me advised as necessary,”  Stannis instructed before turning his attention to Davos.  “What’s the situation with the weapons?”

 

Before Davos could answer, Sansa stood abruptly and interrupted.  “I should be getting back.  Petyr will be wondering what is taking me so long to return.”

 

Stannis frowned, something about Sansa’s manner had changed.  She’d seemed thoughtful and poised when they’d been discussing Tywin Lannister minutes ago but now she seemed fidgety, almost too eager to leave.  Her fingers were worrying the strap of her purse as if she were nervous.

 

“Is anything wrong?” He asked pointedly.

 

Sansa’s fingers stopped moving and she gave a slight shake of her head.  “No, nothing.  I want to discuss this with Petyr.  You do want me to ask him if he knows Tywin Lannister?”

 

Stannis studied her a moment but decided not to press the matter.  She was probably just tired.  They were all tired.  “Yes, of course.  We will discuss it again tomorrow.”  Sansa nodded before allowing Gendry to help her with her coat.  As she was leaving, Stannis called after her, “Alayne, one more thing before you go.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Watch his reaction when you tell him about Lannister ─ watch it closely.”

 

She nodded and before he could even think why, Stannis added, “Be careful.”

 

Sansa turned to look at him and he thought he detected a hint of sadness in her eyes before she replied, “I always am.”

 

 

~~~

 

 

Sansa returned to the flat to find Petyr in his study.  The desk lamp illuminated his features as he glanced up from his work, but before he could begin his interrogation, Sansa immediately excused herself to the toilet.  She was going to be sick.

 

Gripping the porcelain bowl, her hands trembled uncontrollably as she retched into the sink.  There was little remaining on her stomach and the contents only amounted to a small amount of bitter liquid.  She’d hardly eaten anything at the restaurant ─ she’d been too anxious.  She’d managed to hold it together through the evening with Stannis and the team, thanks to a dose of her medication.  She needed another dose now.  She’d been forced to cut back in order to think clearly these past days.  The pills relaxed her but made her sleepy if she took too many. 

 

She took a moment to wash up and dab her face with a towel.  It would only be a few minutes before Petyr would come looking for her, asking what was wrong.  It was the realization that had come to her shortly before she left the Americans’ flat ─ the truth about Tywin Lannister ─ that was when it had started: the nausea, the rapid heartbeat, the feeling of panic, had all begun when she recalled the conversation she’d overheard outside of Petyr’s study.  Had it only been yesterday?  It seemed as if it had been ages ago.  _No, of course not.  There is no chance that he would connect me with you.  I wasn’t there._ She remembered Petyr’s words clearly as he’d spoken to the person whom he’d described as a former associate in Moscow ─ the man who she now suspected was Tywin Lannister.  It had to be!  It all made sense, and the timing was too perfect for it to be coincidental ─ Petyr having an important discussion with a mysterious associate in Moscow the same day that General Trant informs them of his own associate in Moscow who just happens to be an official in charge of the committee for atomic energy.  _I wasn’t there_ meant he was talking about Berlin. 

 

Petyr hadn’t been in Berlin, but Tywin Lannister had.  But if she were right and Petyr’s business contact was Tywin Lannister, then that meant… Sansa felt her stomach clench again at the thought.  That meant that Petyr had already betrayed the Americans ─ that he’d intended to double-cross Stannis all along.  She thought she had prepared herself for the possibility that Petyr would act against the Americans, but she hadn’t realized just how much that bothered her until this evening.   The thought of anything happening to the Americans ─ to Stannis ─ made her physically ill.  What she wondered was whether it was because it ended her hope for escape or because she’d developed feelings for Stannis. 

 

She didn’t have time to consider it when she heard a noise from the hallway.  Petyr was coming.  Sansa searched the contents of her purse and quickly retrieved the tin with her pills.  Opening it, her heart stopped ─ only four remained!  She couldn’t risk taking them now — she would save them until before the meeting at the dacha.  Her heart was racing again and her palms were damp despite just having dried her hands.  There wasn’t time to dwell upon the problem as she heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.  Closing her purse, she flung open the door and forced a weak smile at Petyr, who was mid-way down the hall.

 

“Is anything wrong, Alayne?” he asked, frowning.  “What happened with Baratheon this evening?”

 

“I’m fine.  I’m feeling a bit nauseous.  Probably just nerves.”  Sansa waited while her studied her face carefully.  After a moment he seemed satisfied.

 

“Very well, come into the study and tell me everything.  I’ll have Sandor bring us some tea.”

 

As he allowed her to pass, she added casually, “I thought I might take one of those pills you gave me to help me sleep, but I’m nearly out.  Do you think you might arrange to get more from Dr. Pycelle in the morning?”

 

Petyr followed her into the study and sat at his desk, shuffling a few papers before answering.  Sansa thought it was obvious he was making her wait.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much she needed them.  Finally he replied, “Of course, sweetling.  I’ll call him first thing tomorrow.  Now, tell me what happened.  Was Baratheon satisfied with the list of names I provided?”

 

Sansa knew she must choose her next words carefully.  She wanted to do as Stannis had instructed and monitor Petyr’s reaction.  If she began by telling him that the Americans had a list of their own he would immediately become guarded.  Better to surprise him.

 

“Who is Tywin Lannister?”  she asked bluntly.

 

Her approach worked — Petyr’s eyes widened reflexively before he could control his expression.  He hesitated before emitting a short bark of laughter.  “I knew they would find out, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.  I suppose it’s time I let you in on the rest of the plan.”

 

Sansa waited as Sandor entered the room and placed a tray with a tea set on the desk.  Petyr dismissed him, pouring himself and Sansa a cup before continuing.

 

“Tywin Lannister is an important man.  As you probably already know, he serves as chairman on the State Committee for the Utilization of Atomic Energy in Moscow.  He was instrumental in the construction of the nuclear power plant in Obninsk, the first in Russia.”

 

“If he’s such an important man, why would he betray his own country by selling nuclear waste to a German crime boss?” Sansa snapped, not bothering to hide her disgust.

 

“Alayne, surely you aren’t that naive after all I’ve taught you?  Our government is every bit as corrupt as the western powers.  Those of us who are intelligent make use of them.  Tywin is a very intelligent man.  His family was quite wealthy and powerful before the October Revolution.  They lost everything when the communists came to power ─ land, money, everything.  His father Tytos was able to restore the Lannister name by becoming a loyal Communist and Tywin capitalized on it during the Second World War by bringing nuclear technology back from Berlin.  Tywin was rewarded with a dacha in Minsk and thanks to his dealings with me he has been able to rebuild his assets, carefully placed in foreign banks, of course.  But he has never forgotten that the Communists were responsible for the destruction of his family.  His has never forgiven them either.”

 

“Was he the man you were talking to on the phone?  Does he know that Stannis is an American agent?”  Sansa tried unsuccessfully to keep the tension from her voice.  She took a sip of tea and placed the cup on the saucer, the rattling sound as her hand shook revealing her emotions.

 

Petyr hesitated, brows knitted with concern.  “Yes, he does know.”

 

“You betrayed them,” Sansa hissed.

 

“Tywin Lannister is my business partner.  You knew this might happen, Alayne.  I told you that there is no side but ours.  It is in our interests that the Americans fail.  Selling our commodity to the West will bring a huge profit, Stannis Baratheon is trying to stop that from happening.  Also, it _is_ important that we keep in Tywin’s good graces.  He is not only influential in Russian politics, he’s a widower.”

 

It was then that Sansa remembered what Petyr had told her that day.  She’d been too distracted by the danger to Stannis to think of it before.  _You don’t know him, but I’ll introduce you to him soon enough.  He has an important role to play in our future._  Of course, Petyr wanted her to marry Tywin Lannister!  The thought made her blood turn to ice.  She felt the warmth drain from her cheeks.  She must have looked pale because Petyr quickly continued, attempting to keep his tone light.

 

“I’ll introduce you to him at the dacha.  I am certain that he will be quite taken with you, as all men are.”

 

“You’ll be coming with us to the dacha?” Sansa asked dully, feeling numb from the shock of Petyr’s surprise revelations. 

 

“Yes, of course.  This is too important to leave to you alone.  You needn’t be nervous, I’ll take care of everything.  We can discuss the details later.  I should think that Baratheon trusts you now and won’t think anything is amiss until it’s too late.  Now go to bed, sweetling.  You’ve had a busy day and you need your rest.  We will speak again in the morning.”

 

She nodded dumbly and rose to her feet, ignoring his satisfied smile as she left the room.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, and she couldn’t risk taking the last of her pills to help her get some rest.  She would need them for Saturday, when she had to face Stannis ─ when she would look him in the eyes and lie to him again.  There was nothing she could do to save him.  There had never been anything she could do.  She knew she was weak but it didn’t matter now ─ nothing mattered now because Petyr was going to win.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**Saturday, 11 December, 1965 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

It was a cold, crisp morning, the sky overcast and gray, when Stannis and the team met General Trant and his men in the empty lot behind Club Havana.  Clouds of steam billowed from their mouths while they decided that one of Trant’s men would ride in Stannis’ car and Davos would ride in Trant’s car with his three remaining men. It was just in case they got lost, Trant assured them.  Stannis, bundled securely in his gray overcoat, scarf, and fur hat, nodded curtly and climbed into the back of the black Volga beside Melisandre.  Trant’s man rode in the passenger’s seat beside the driver, Gendry.

 

They were silent on the ride to the dacha, driving outside the city on winding roads past farms and pastures dotted with sheep.  It had begun to snow again, heavier this time, which would make the drive take longer.  Stannis was grateful for the silence that allowed him time to think.  This was a dangerous assignment and he had to account for every possible problem that might be encountered during the meeting with Tywin at the dacha.  His mind had been juggling all of that for the past twenty-four hours but now all he could think about was Sansa.  He was worried about her.  She hadn’t shown up at the flat for their meeting last night.  It was an important meeting, the last time they had to go over the final plans for the weekend at the dacha and meeting with Tywin Lannister.  Sansa had sent word that she wasn’t feeling well and that she’d see him at the dacha.  She would be driving up with Petyr later in the day.  Petyr had accepted Trant’s invitation, which was a surprise to everyone.  Stannis didn’t know what to make of Sansa’s sudden absence.  It would make sense that Petyr might have become suspicious and didn’t want Sansa to betray any information concerning his knowledge of Tywin Lannister.  Still she had acted strangely when they’d parted at the flat.  She’d seemed distracted.  Stannis had been on the verge of trusting Sansa and, more disturbingly, on the verge of caring for her.  Perhaps he _did_ care for her since he couldn’t stop thinking about her.  But now, it was as if they’d taken a step backwards in their relationship.  He felt she was being dishonest ─ holding back vital information, and he didn’t know why. 

 

As if reading his thoughts, Melisandre moved closer to him, speaking low so as not to be overheard.  From the looks of it, Trant’s man in the passenger’s seat was too busy having a smoke and staring out the window.  Stannis didn’t know if he spoke English anyway, but it was best to keep their voices from carrying over the sound of the engine.

 

“I think we should have a plan in the event that Baelish betrays us.  I don’t like the fact that he surprised us by coming to the dacha this weekend.  What do you suppose he’s planning?”

 

“I don’t know.  Perhaps it’s only for show, so that he doesn’t offend Trant by declining his invitation.  I’d like to think that Alayne would have warned us if he were setting a trap.”

 

“Maybe she’s telling the truth and she isn’t privy to everything.”

 

Stannis’ conflicted emotions must have shown in his eyes because Melisandre added, “I want to trust her too.”

 

“Did your contact give you any other information about her?”

 

“No.  He wasn’t able to give us anything more on Tywin Lannister either, other than the usual public profile.  Our problem is going to be what to do about Lannister when the mission is over and the nuclear waste is secure.”

 

“Only one problem?”  Stannis snorted, lifting an eyebrow.  “The orders from Command say to eliminate the arms dealer by any means possible.”

 

“Yes, but now there are two arms dealers and one of them is a prominent Soviet official.  It won’t be so simple to deal with Lannister quietly.”  Melisandre frowned.

 

Stannis sighed, “Nobody said it would be simple.  I’m hoping that a solution will present itself at the right time.  For now, we need to get through this weekend and hope that Baelish doesn’t sell us out to the highest bidder.  Be on your guard.  When Baelish arrives we may have to act fast if things fall apart.”

 

“Davos has hidden some useful items in the car.  When we first arrive, he will survey the area and note where the guards are positioned.  Gendry will stay near the vehicle, in the garage with the other guards.  When the time is right, I’ll attempt to distract them so that he can secure the weapons,” Melisandre explained, reiterating the plan that had been agreed upon.

 

Stannis looked at her and attempted a smile.  “I have every confidence in your ability to distract any man.”

 

“We should be fine.  Trant’s men aren’t that good.”

 

Melisandre smiled in return before relaxing back into the seat and closing her eyes.  Stannis decided he should do the same.  It would be a long weekend and they would need to take their rest when they could.

 

~~~

 

 

It was late evening before Sansa and Petyr arrived at the dacha.  Sansa scanned the foyer with a sense of apprehension as Sandor helped remove her coat.  Trant was welcoming Petyr to the estate but she paid little attention to his insincere enthusiasm for their arrival.  The only thoughts she had were of Stannis. 

 

The drive to the dacha through the beautiful snow-covered countryside, and the initial view of the regal estate, hadn’t left an impression on her at all, so distracted was she by anticipation and dread of seeing Stannis again. 

 

The drive up had been uncomfortable.  Petyr had wanted to prep her with a new set of instructions on how to behave when Tywin arrived.  He’d decided it was time that she had a very public breakup with Stannis Baratheon.  Even though Tywin was in on the deception that she had played the role of Stannis’ mistress, Petyr didn’t want Tywin to even consider the fact that she might have done more than act the part with the American.  Since they were nearing the end of the charade, it was no longer necessary for her to relay messages between the parties.  She would break it off with Stannis and then be free to pay proper attention to Tywin.  Petyr was adamant.  She had no choice in the matter, as always.

 

Sansa hadn’t said a word, simply nodded and stared out the window into the distance.  She knew she should be more careful to hide her displeasure, but a sense of numbness had overtaken her and she couldn’t bring herself to act the part of dutiful niece and sometimes spy.  She couldn’t tell Petyr the _real_ reason for her sudden lack of interest in this trip ─ the fact that she couldn’t bear to see Stannis again.  The very thought of seeing him, of pretending to be his mistress, and all the while knowing that Petyr was going to kill him or at the very least have him arrested made her want to scream ─ but there was nothing she could do to prevent it.  Petyr had all the power.  Petyr was in control.  Her desperate hope that the Americans could help her escape was gone.  Her growing feelings for Stannis made the idea of facing him again even worse.  She’d known him for less than a week but there had been an unexpected connection between them that had made it impossible for her to treat him like just another pawn to be sacrificed in Petyr’s game of chess.  Better to never see Stannis again than prolong this torture.  She couldn’t tell Petyr any of this and since she was already committed to the assignment, in his eyes there was no going back.

 

“There you are, darling.”  Sansa saw Stannis striding toward her and her heart did a somersault.   He had traded his black suit for a casual navy sweater, more appropriate for the country.  The color accentuated his blue eyes.  She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was despite her desire not to feel anything for him this weekend.  The three pills she had taken prior to their trip did little to prevent her heart from aching at the sight of him.

 

Smiling, Stannis leaned forward to kiss her lips but she quickly turned and offered her cheek instead.  Although she was trying to smile, she couldn’t quite manage anything more than a twitch of her mouth in recognition.  He was looking at her with a mixture of happiness and concern which she realized was probably genuine. 

 

“Mr. Baratheon,” Petyr interrupted before Stannis could say anything else.  “It’s good to see you again.  General Trant, I beg your pardon for our late arrival.  Between pressing business earlier today and the roads, it couldn’t be helped.  I wonder if you’ve served dinner yet?  My niece and I haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.”

 

“Da,” Trant nodded, grinning.  “We have cold supper this way.” 

 

Stannis took Sansa’s arm as they followed the general into the dining room where a buffet of assorted meats, cheeses, and breads had been set against one wall so that guests could dine at their leisure.  The decor was elegant, the crown-molding and printed wall paper evoking a period when the Tsars ruled and Belarus belonged to the Russian Empire.  Sansa felt as if she’d traveled back in time.

 

“Our host, Comrade Lannister, has been delayed due to snow.  The roads are much worse closer to Moscow.  We will have formal dinner when he arrives tomorrow,” Trant explained.

 

“Where are the others?” Baelish asked, filling a small plate and handing it to Sansa who took it wordlessly.

 

“The men play billiards in the game room.  Take your plate and join us.  The women,” he shrugged, “somewhere gossiping.”

 

Petyr added a slice of ham to his plate and turned to Stannis, “Shall we adjourn to the game room?”

 

“You go,” Stannis replied casually.  “General Trant has taken quite enough of my money.  I’ll stay here with Alayne and keep her company while she eats.”

 

Sansa’s stomach did another flip.  The last thing she wanted at the moment was to be alone with Stannis.

 

“I can go and find the other women,” she argued.  “You don’t need to stay here with me.”

 

“I insist,” Stannis countered, staring at her intently.  “I missed you yesterday, darling.”

 

It seemed she didn’t have a choice.

 

“As you wish,” Petyr nodded after giving Stannis a curious look.  Petyr followed Trant from the room and Stannis and Sansa were the only remaining occupants, although Sandor’s tall form could be seen lurking just outside the doorway.

 

“Shall we sit?” Stannis directed Sansa to a nearby chair without waiting for a reply.   He moved a second chair close to hers and began peppering her with questions as soon as he was seated.  “What’s wrong?  Did Baelish do something?  What is he planning?”

 

Sansa tried to summon the confident smile of Alayne, but it seemed too difficult.  Her eyes cast downward, unable to look at him ─ the man she cared for and the man she had betrayed.

 

“No, nothing ─ it’s only nerves and fatigue.”  As if to emphasize her words, her hands began to shake and she dropped her napkin.  “Perhaps a glass of spiced wine would help?  I think I saw some over there,” she asked hopefully. 

 

Stannis studied her carefully before fulfilling her request.  He returned with a mug of the warm liquid and she put her plate aside and sipped gratefully.  The sweet drink had a soothing effect on her frayed nerves and Sansa suddenly felt the full weight of her tiredness pressing down upon her shoulders.  Her limbs felt heavy and her eyelids demanded to slip closed.

 

“I just want this to be over,” she whispered truthfully, stifling a yawn.  She took another generous sip of wine, before Stannis removed the cup from her hands and set it aside.

 

“What does _over_ mean for you?  How do you want this to end?”  Stannis asked, keeping his voice low.  He was holding her hand and Sansa was struck by how warm and comforting it felt.  She wanted nothing more than to snuggle next to him, bury her face in his sweater and fall asleep.

 

“Alayne. Did you hear what I said?”

 

Sansa jerked awake at Stannis’ change in tone.  He was frowning at her again.  “Yes.  I heard.  I don’t want to discuss it right now,” she managed.

 

“You never want to discuss it but we have to eventually.  You need to be completely honest with me, and soon,” he demanded, but his voice remained soft.  She thought he must be genuinely worried about her and it made her feel better and worse at the same time.

 

“I’m very tired.  I just need to lie down for a moment.”

 

“I think that might be wise,” Stannis replied, helping her to her feet.  “I’ll show you to our room.”

 

_Our_ room?  Sansa started again, suddenly alert, her heart thudding within her chest.  Of course, it made sense given their public relationship status.   Trant and his thugs would have all brought their mistresses.  It would be expected that they would share a room!  As if reading her mind, Stannis quickly added, “You needn’t worry.  I’ll sleep on the floor.”

 

Momentarily taken aback, Sansa quickly recovered. 

 

“I’m not worried,” she replied, taking his arm. 

 

It surprised her just how much she was telling the truth.  Suddenly she didn’t feel worried in the least.  Sansa wobbled slightly as she began to walk and was grateful to lean on Stannis for support.  Perhaps it was the wine taking effect, but rather than apprehension, Sansa felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of sharing a room with Stannis.  As he escorted her through the maze of rooms and down a long corridor, Sansa’s sluggish mind tried to make sense of why.  She’d dreaded seeing Stannis, but now that she was alone with him she never wanted to let him out of her sight. 

 

She was doing the exact opposite of what Petyr had instructed and it felt liberating ─ for once she was in control.  She hadn’t realized it until now, but the more she thought about it, the clearer it became.  For Petyr’s plans to work he needed her help.  He needed her to play a role once again ─ to be Alayne Stone, femme fatale.  He needed her cooperation to break up with Stannis and to charm Tywin Lannister.  Well, he wasn’t going to get it and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it while they were in this very public setting!  She felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her, making her feel a bit giddy.  At the moment she felt fearless.  Petyr would punish her later, but what did it matter if there was no future for her anyway?  For once she was going to do what felt good, and it felt good being with Stannis.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My posting schedule is going to get a little messed up in the next couple of weeks due to upcoming work travel. I will try and keep it every other day but some may end up being delayed a day or two. My apologies! Thanks for staying with me so far. I love all the comments :)


	11. Chapter 11

 

They reached their destination and Stannis opened the door for her.  The room was of modest size, with masculine themed wallpaper depicting hounds and hunting scenes.  The single bed was covered with a crisp white spread.  Sansa’s overnight bag had been placed at the foot of it, and a fire had been lit in the small fireplace.

“I’ll return in an hour, after you’ve rested and we can join the others,” Stannis said, turning to leave.

Instead of letting him go, Sansa pulled him into the room by his arm and closed the door.  He regarded her curiously as she slowly laced her fingers behind his neck and pressed her body against his. A few minutes ago she could hardly keep her eyes open and now she was looking at him like she had in the kitchen the other night, like she wasn’t pretending anymore.  He tried not to acknowledge his physical response to her actions.  He didn’t have time for this ─ whether he was attracted to her or not.

Pulling him down so that their faces nearly touched she murmured, “You could rest with me.”

His hands moved to her hips and he wanted to push her away, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do so.  Mentally cursing himself for being weak, Stannis didn’t resist when she kissed him.  Like the kiss in the lounge two nights ago, it wasn’t a chaste kiss.  It was if they were starting again where they had left off.  Sansa’s mouth moved hungrily over his, her tongue parting his lips insistently to gain entrance.  Stannis’ breath hitched, surprised by her fervor, but soon he was kissing her back with the same level of intensity, tasting cinnamon and cloves from the wine she’d been drinking.  Sansa’s nails felt wonderful, raking across the skin on the back of his neck and her hips pressed forward, pushing him back against the door as if she were desperate to get closer to him, to feel every inch of her body covered with his.  Stannis’ hands cupped her hips and lifted her against him, feeling exactly the same, his arousal fueled by the heat and friction of her body.  He felt himself beginning to harden and he wondered if she could feel it too, the way she was rubbing against him.  After a few minutes their mouths parted in order to breathe and Stannis came to his senses, gently but firmly disengaging Sansa’s hands from his neck.

“I should go see what Petyr is up to,” he said, softly, his voice sounding embarrassingly strained.  Sansa was looking at him with a self-satisfied smile.

“Is my uncle so much more interesting than me?”  she pouted.  There is was again, that combination of innocence and worldliness that Sansa used to drive him to distraction.  He’d never found it to be such a turn on in his previous experience with women, but right now he wanted nothing more than to suck hard on that lower lip of hers, to watch it swell and redden, until she moaned with pleasure.  Instead he attempted to thwart her attempts at seduction by holding her hands to keep her from touching him.  He really needed to go.  He needed to go now. 

Undeterred, Sansa leaned forward and nuzzled her face against his neck, eliciting a soft groan that he was unable to suppress when she sucked on a spot on the underside of his jaw. 

“You know that isn’t true,” Stannis struggled to make his brain function properly.  He was stronger than she was, he should be pushing her away, and yet he couldn’t get his arms to cooperate.  “I don’t have time for this.  I have work to do ─ we both have work to do.”

“We have nothing to do until tomorrow when Tywin arrives.  Petyr and Trant aren’t going anywhere.”

Sansa had managed to shift her hands and now she was holding his hands, guiding them back to her hips.  As soon as his hands were filled with her perfect ass, Sansa let her own hands slip beneath his sweater, the caress of her fingers over his bare back sending shivers down his spine. 

“We have the whole night to ourselves.”

Stannis closed his eyes in a last-ditch effort to focus on anything other than what Sansa was doing to him.  The logical part of his brain was telling him that this was wrong.  He had never considered sleeping with a team member during a mission ─ ever.   She was too young, too untrustworthy, too unpredictable; and yet, he’d come to care for her more than he should.  He’d been worried about her all last night, and all day today.  It felt good to have her here with him, in his arms where he knew she was safe.  It felt good to feel the tension that had built up during this dangerous mission drain from his body where she touched.  It felt damn good when her lips forged a trail of kisses along his neck and jaw.  He knew he was lost when she whispered hotly against his ear, “I want you to take me to bed.”

Stannis forced her to look at him.  Her eyes were heavy-lidded with lust and he saw no sign of hesitation or of deception.  She seemed quite relaxed and content in his embrace.  Her lips were supple and pouting ─ begging to be kissed again.  The blood pounding in his temples drowned out any further thoughts of abstinence.  His throbbing arousal led him to walk her slowly backwards to the bed with single-minded determination, stopping several times to steal heated kisses. 

Sansa collapsed onto the bed, tugging him down by his sweater.  He lay half draped over her, the firmness of her breasts pressing against his chest reminding him that there were far too many layers of clothing separating them.  He managed to undo the buttons on her short, braided-edge jacket.  He coaxed her to sit up and removed it, revealing the sleeveless sheath dress she wore underneath.  Her bare shoulders were smooth and pale and she sighed contentedly when he placed his lips on one.  He slowly kissed his way across her shoulder and up her neck as his fingers found her zipper and lowered it down her back.  His hands pushed the dress from her shoulders and it fell open to her waist, exposing her silk slip and more of her exquisitely smooth skin.  

Although it was only early evening, the winter sun had set and the room was now darkened; the firelight the only illumination making Sansa’s skin shine like white porcelain in contrast to the flickering shadows.  A few wisps of hair had escaped from her pinned braids and caressed her neck.  He had a sudden urge to see her auburn hair falling free against her shoulders and reached to remove the pins that held her braids in place.  Sansa indulged him, holding her head still even as her fingers pulled impatiently at his sweater, encouraging him to pause briefly in order to remove it.  He managed to work loose her braids, trying his best to ignore the distraction of her hands exploring and caressing his chest and shoulders,  Finally, his fingers combed freely through her silken locks as her hair cascaded over her shoulders in crimson waves, reflecting the colors of the firelight.  She was an almost-ethereal vision of beauty and he couldn’t quite believe that she was real. 

Sansa brought him back to reality with a trail of kisses along his collarbone as her hands began working at his belt.  His cock pulsed with anticipation at the thought of entering her and he wanted nothing more than to push up her dress, shove her panties to the side and bury himself to the hilt.  HIs pride, however, demanded that he put up a decent showing.  The jealous part of him knew that she would be comparing him to all of the men she’d bedded as part of her “job.”  The way she looked at him made him understand now that with him, she didn’t consider this a duty ─ nobody was  _ that _ good an actress.  Still, he hadn’t had sex in far too long, which reduced the odds of him lasting for any respectable length of time once between her legs.   He would feel awful if he were to disappoint.  He was determined to bring her pleasure.

“First things first,” he said softly, meeting her gaze while disengaging her hand from his belt.  “Lie back.”

Sansa leaned back on her elbows, her expression a combination of curiosity and frustration as she watched Stannis intently.  Stannis sat on the bed and shucked off his boots before kneeling between her legs and pulling off hers.  He ran his hand up her bare leg, over her calf and let it rest on the inside of her thigh, his fingers lightly stroking.  He was delighted when he felt her shiver from his touch.  Carefully, he coaxed her dress over her hips and down her long legs, leaving her clad only in slip and panties.  Her nipples were firm and dark, visible through the thin fabric that covered them.  He reached out to touch one, circling it with his fingers.  The firm brush of his thumb crossing it, caused it to protrude even more prominently and elicited a short whine of surprise from Sansa.  He thought briefly of removing her slip, but he had another goal in mind. 

Stannis thought he glimpsed hesitation in her eyes as he positioned her closer to the edge of the bed, himself still kneeling before her.  Surely she wasn’t having second thoughts now?!  But when his fingers traced an intimate path between her legs, he found her surprisingly wet, soaking through the silk partition of her panties and she moaned his name quite wantonly, closing her eyes and spreading her legs to grant him better access as he caressed her tender flesh.  He could scarcely believe that this beautiful young woman was this aroused for him.  Emboldened, he skirted the barrier of fabric and began to stroke her in earnest, exploring the area around her opening with his fingertips and watching her face carefully for a response.  Her eyes remained closed tightly but she gasped and bit her lip at the shallow insertion of a finger.

“Do you like that?  Am I hurting you?”  he asked, his husky voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s wonderful,” Sansa’s voice sounded strained but not particularly stressed.  “Please keep going─” she pleaded, adding, “─slowly.”

Stannis didn’t know how much more slowly he could go; for him, time had seemed to stop completely, but he would try his best.  His cock was demanding to be where his finger was currently located and he struggled to control his own urges, concentrating on Sansa’s pleasure as intently as he would a new assignment.  He removed her panties completely, taking a moment to admire the arousing sight of her short, glistening curls which were every bit as fiery red as her hair, before returning to his previous activities.  Now, there was nothing between his skin and hers.  Carefully he adjusted the speed and intensity of his touch, fine-tuning his technique until he had her hips undulating and her toes curling.  He inserted a second finger, producing a deep groan from Sansa.  She was tight and he was unable to penetrate her as deeply as he wanted at first, but she was so wet that he eventually worked his way in, nearly to his knuckles.  He noticed that she tensed at first, which caused him to stop and stroke her labia gently with his thumb until she relaxed and he could continue. 

The agonizingly slow pace proved rewarding as he watched her practically melt beneath him, bucking against his hand and moaning for more.  The sounds she was making became more urgent and frequent until he sensed she was close.  When he leaned forward and replaced his fingers with his tongue, raking it across her slit and over the stiff nub of her clit, her hips nearly shot off the bed, crying his name with a mixture of surprise and ecstasy.   Luckily, his shoulders prevented her from clamping her legs around his head as she climaxed, her body pulsing in a stuttering rhythm against him. 

Stannis was standing even before Sansa had collapsed back onto the bed in a boneless heap.  She watched him through slitted eyes, with a nearly dream-like expression of contentment on her face, which Stannis took as a good sign as he impatiently tore off his pants and boxers.  He silently thanked any higher powers that might exist that he’d brought condoms as part of his cover as a philandering mobster.  Fumbling in his pocket for one, he quickly removed it from the wrapper and rolled it on his now painfully hard erection.  Glancing at Sansa one last time, he realized he’d never found a woman more attractive, her long red hair tousled, her lips swollen from kissing, and naked from the waist down with her legs still parted in invitation. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered hotly.  “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

“Mmmmm, Stannis,” she murmured as he lay down next to her, kissing her soundly but briefly before moving into position between her legs and guiding himself inside her.  She was so very tight and his penetration seemed to cause her some discomfort at first.  He frowned, frustrated as she moaned and tensed beneath him.  Was that sound one of pleasure or of pain?

“Am I hurting you?” he asked again, his voice cracking from the strain of forcing himself to remain still when all he wanted was to thrust into her until he was sheathed to the hilt.

“Don’t stop,” she sighed, turning her head to the side ─ her eyes closed and her voice a barely audible whisper. 

That was all the encouragement Stannis needed; his body demanding that he find release soon.  He continued to push forward at a glacial pace until he gave one final short thrust and he was fully inside her.  His brain couldn’t process the sensation of how good it felt and he was grateful for the condom once more since it desensitized him just enough to keep him from coming immediately.  But now his cock was in control and he began to move with purpose, his hips locking into a rhythm of short thrusts gaining momentum as he closed his eyes and gave into his need.  He was aware of nothing save for Sansa’s soft murmurs and his own embarrassingly obnoxious grunting as the delicious pressure in his groin continued to build toward the bursting point.  His orgasm overtook him suddenly and he managed one last thrust before the rush of his release nearly caused him to blackout.  He heard himself moan  _ Sansa  _ ─ not  _ Alayne _ , and somehow knew it wasn’t a mistake.  After a few moments his body began to cool and he became aware of the tension in his shoulders from holding himself above Sansa.  He rolled off of her and collapsed beside her on the bed as his breathing slowed.  Her head lolled against his shoulder and she immediately snuggled against his neck, her hair falling across her face obscuring her features.  She gave one big sigh and then her steady breathing informed him that she had fallen asleep.  He wondered if it was the sex or just the tension of the day that had caused her to succumb so quickly.  Perhaps it was both.  Anyway, he hoped that she was pleased with his performance.  He felt vaguely uneasy not having the opportunity to speak with her at all after such an intimate encounter.  Even though he felt guilty for indulging his baser instincts during a mission, they both needed an outlet to relieve some of the stress that been building over the course of the last few days.  That’s all this was, he told himself.  He’d speak with Sansa about it in the morning.  This type of behavior wasn’t something that either of them could afford to engage in while they were working together.

Although Stannis wanted to give himself over to sleep as well, he forced himself to get up.  He made his way to the tiny ensuite bathroom to wash up and dispose of the condom.  He turned on the light and his breath caught as he immediately noticed the condom was stained red with blood.  His thoughts went in a hundred directions.  There could be a number of explanations, but one that he hadn’t considered suddenly leapt to the forefront.  She couldn’t have been a virgin ─ could she?  No, that was impossible.  Was the worldly Alayne Stone really just a complete fabrication?  Was she  _ that _ good of an actress?  How could he have been so wrong about her?  Stannis shook his head as he flushed the condom and washed up.  Splashing his face with water he patted dry with a towel and stared at himself in the small mirror over the sink.  Was he the biggest cad on the planet or was there some other explanation?  He had so many questions but only Sansa had the answers.   He returned to the bed to find her in the exact position in which he had left her.  Her breathing was steady but shallow.  He called her name softly and got no response.

“Sansa, wake up.  We need to talk,” he said in a normal tone.  Still no response.  He frowned and placed his hand on her shoulder to rouse her.  He shook her gently and still she didn’t move.

“Sansa!” he cried sharply, shaking her harder.  Still she didn’t awaken.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

“Sansa, wake up!”

 

Sansa’s head hurt.  She wished the man in her head would stop shouting her name.  He kept saying it over and over.  Smack!  Her eyes shot open.  He slapped her!  Who?  She struggled to focus.  The room was dimly lit and there was a blurry face in front of her.  Who?  Her limbs felt stiff and clumsy and she didn’t have the strength to move them.  Her eyes wanted to close again.  She just needed to sleep for a few minutes longer.  Smack!  He slapped her again.  Not hard enough to bruise but it jolted her enough to be annoying.  Why couldn’t he just let her sleep? 

 

Her eyes opened once more and the face before her came into focus.  Stannis!  It was Stannis!  She tried to smile but her mouth wouldn’t work.  It felt bone dry, her lips plastered together.  She remembered now ─ Stannis was her lover.  They had made love for the first time ─ her first time.  Then why was he slapping her?  She tried to concentrate on his face.  His handsome features were molded into a frown.  He looked worried.  He was looking at someone ─ speaking to someone in the room.  She moved her eyes right, without turning her head and the room tilted.  She caught a brief glimpse of red hair before her stomach rolled.

 

“I’m going to be sick,” Sansa croaked, attempting to sit up.  Stannis helped her to her feet.  Sansa could barely stand but she pushed him away.  “No.” 

 

She couldn’t bear for him to see her vomit.  She felt Melisandre’s hands on her shoulders and let the woman guide her into the ensuite where she promptly relieved herself into the toilet.  Melisandre reacted quickly enough to hold Sansa’s hair away from her face so she didn’t make a worse mess.  Sansa’s stomach, essentially empty, produced mostly dry heaves as she retched until her body was finished.  Sansa sat silently trembling on the cold floor with her legs curled under her.  Fortunately her slip covered her, but her face reddened when she realized that her panties were missing.  She wondered if Melisandre had noticed.  Of course she had, it was her job to notice things.  She made no mention of it, however, and kept to the subject at hand.

 

“What are you taking?” Melisandre demanded calmly but firmly.

 

“I-I don’t know what they are.  White pills.  Petyr gave them to me for my nerves.”  Sansa saw no point in lying.  “How did you know?”

 

“Your pupils are dilated.  Your skin is cold but dry and yet your face is flushed.  Classic signs of opioid addiction.  Does Stannis know?”

 

Sansa stared at her in surprise.  “Of course not.  Nobody knows.” 

 

Then it hit her.  Melisandre was becoming suspicious of Stannis because of finding her here, passed out in the unmade bed, obvious signs of them having had sex.  She probably thought she was confiding in Stannis ─ and manipulating him.  She’d caused his own teammate to doubt him.  Sansa felt sick again, but managed to calm herself. 

 

“Stannis doesn’t know about anything, I swear it.”

 

Melisandre nodded.  “You might have O.D.’d tonight.  You need to be more careful.  How long have you been on this medication?”

 

“For over a year.  I’ve run out and asked Petyr to get more, but he hasn’t yet.  I took one pill last night and three pills this afternoon, those were the last.  O.D.’d?  What does that mean?”

 

“It means overdosed.  Have you been drinking tonight as well?”  Sansa nodded and Melisandre looked concerned.  “Pills and alcohol don’t mix well.  You might have died, Sansa.”

 

Just then they heard a soft knock.  “Is everything okay in there?”  Stannis asked through the door.

 

“We’ll be out in a moment,” Melisandre replied, helping Sansa to her feet.  “Are you okay to wash up?”  the older woman asked.  Sansa nodded and Melisandre left her alone, closing the door behind her.  A few moments later she opened the door again and placed her overnight bag on the floor before closing it. 

 

After washing up, running a comb through her hair, brushing her teeth and donning some clean pajamas, Sansa felt ready to face Stannis.  She stepped out of the bathroom, took one look at him and ended up in his arms, her head pressed against his chest as he stroked her hair.  She still trembled a little, but managed not to cry.  She thought she would be content to stay like that forever, encased in his warm embrace.

 

“I’ll leave you alone.  I’m going to go see what types of medication I can find.  There should be plenty to choose from in this house full of criminals,” Melisandre smiled.  “Sansa, I’ll see what I can find for you but please don’t drink any alcohol unless I tell you to.”

 

Sansa lifted her head from Stannis’ chest and nodded, attempting a smile.  “Thank you.”

 

Melisandre checked the hall quickly before leaving.  When she was gone, Sansa looked at Stannis.  “What did she mean, about finding me medication?”

 

“Melisandre filled me in about you taking the pills while you were washing up.  You shouldn’t withdraw from taking them so abruptly.  She’s going to try and find something that will make it easier.”  His blue eyes flashed with anger.  “I can’t believe Baelish would get you hooked on sedatives.”

 

“They helped me cope ─ for a time.”

 

Stannis led her to the bed and coaxed her to sit beside him, holding her hands in his.  “Sansa, what did he do to you?  Why did you need pills in order to cope?  It’s time you told me the truth ─ all of it.  No excuses this time.”

 

Sansa lowered her eyes, staring at his large hands holding hers.  She felt safe with him.  She’d been intimate with him.  Even if it was hopeless, she wanted to be with him until the end.  It was time she told him everything.  She owed him that much.  She met his gaze resolutely.

 

“I’m ready, Stannis.  I’ll tell you everything.” 

 

Suddenly a thought occurred to her and her eyes widened in fear.  “What if they’re listening?!” she hissed.  Stannis had been calling her Sansa and she hadn’t been careful at all about what she’d been saying.  The pills had made her lower her guard.

 

“It’s okay, Sansa,” Stannis reassured quickly.  “I cleared the room of listening devices before you arrived.  Davos managed to smuggle a small metal detector in the car.  It’s safe to speak in this room.”

 

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief and tried to relax.  She started her story again from the beginning, from the time her father was arrested, and this time she left nothing out.  Stannis listened intently, only interrupting when she was unclear about something.  She even retrieved the note from her mother, which she had carefully hidden in her overnight bag, and handed it to him to read for himself.  She told him that Petyr had told Tywin Lannister everything about the IMF.  Her voice shook when she explained that she had even been willing to betray him if needed, in order for her to escape.  Surely he would hate her now, but he deserved to know the whole truth.  At that moment, she’d never felt closer to anyone than she did Stannis.

 

“It was easy for me to mistrust Americans,” Sansa explained.  “I was raised by Petyr to believe that all governments were corrupt.  I had never met an American until I met you.”  Sansa met his eyes, trying to keep herself from crying.  “I don’t care about myself now.  I won’t do anything to hurt you or the others.  I hope you can believe me.”

 

“I believe you,” Stannis answered, pulling her close.  They held each other silently for a few moments, alone with their own thoughts until Stannis pulled back and forced her to look at him again.

 

“It might interest to know that we have information that your father was acting as an agent for the U.K. intelligence service, MI6.  I didn’t know him, so I have no idea about why he went to work for them.  He may have taken issue with the corruption that is rampant in the Soviet government.  Baelish must have found out and blown his cover, which led to his arrest and imprisonment.”

 

This time Sansa was unsuccessful at blinking back her tears.  Stannis had confirmed what she’d suspected all along. 

 

“My father was a hero.  I never thought that he was a traitor.  I’m not going to rest until Petyr is punished for his crimes against my family.”

 

“You can do that by helping us,” Stannis assured her, reaching out to brush a stray tear from Sansa’s cheek.

 

“You don’t hate me?” Sansa asked, surprised by how gentle he was with her after all she had confided.  “I betrayed you and your friends.”

 

“You didn’t betray us,” Stannis answered emphatically, giving her hand a squeeze.  “Petyr did.  He’s been manipulating you all of this time.  He’s been lying to us as well.  You’ve done the right thing by telling me the truth.  Now will you help us stop Baelish?”

 

Sansa nodded.  “I will.  You have my word.” 

 

It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest now that she and Stannis were on the same side and she had him to confide in.  She wasn’t alone anymore.

 

“One more thing,” he asked, frowning.  He seemed strangely flustered all of a sudden and she wondered what was bothering him.   “I had assumed ─ perhaps it was a stupid assumption on my part ─ that you had been with other men.  What I mean to say, is that I was convinced that you had experience ─ but now I think that maybe I might have been too ─”

 

Sansa thought she could detect a tinge of red on his cheeks as he stopped in mid-sentence, searching for the right words.  She had to keep herself from laughing at him but she didn’t want to cause him further embarrassment.  _This_ was what he was worried about after all she had disclosed to him?  She had told him that Petyr and Tywin were setting a trap for the IMF and this was the first topic of discussion that came to his mind?  She knew then that he must truly care for her, and her heart swelled with happiness despite the desperate circumstances.

 

“I was a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said bluntly.  “I’m not completely without experience, but you were my first lover.”

 

“Oh.”  Stannis blinked a few times and continued to frown as if trying to figure out what to do with this new information.  “You should have told me.  I think I had a right to know.  We shouldn’t have had sex.  I wouldn’t have─”

 

“It wasn’t your decision to make,” Sansa cut him off, gently but firmly.  “Yes, I should have told you, but it was my decision.  I wanted to make love with you.  I wanted you to be my first.”  She took his hand and squeezed it briefly.  “You didn’t force me.  You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

 

Sansa didn’t want to bring up the drugs, but Stannis did.

 

“You were under the influence.  I’m not certain that you were able to give consent.”

 

“Yes, that’s true, but that was my fault.  You aren’t to blame.  Besides, I’m completely sober now and I don’t regret a thing.  You were wonderful, Stannis.”  She lowered her eyes thoughtfully before adding, “Petyr has controlled everything in my life, but he couldn’t control this.  At first I thought that I wanted to take you to bed as a way of defying Petyr, but now I know that was only part of it.   I chose you ─ as my lover, because I care for you.”

 

She looked into Stannis’ blue eyes and saw that he cared for her too.  At long last, he trusted her.  She vowed never to make him regret it.

 

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asked, visibly concerned.

 

“No,” Sansa replied truthfully, “you were perfect.  In fact,” she began, taking advantage of his close proximity to place a gentle kiss on his lips.  “I wouldn’t mind continuing where we left off, after I’ve rested a little.”

 

She wasn’t sure her body was ready for sex again because of the aftereffects of the pills she’d taken, but a leisurely session of cuddling with Stannis, warm and secure beneath the covers, sounded heavenly.

 

Stannis allowed another brief kiss before pulling away.  She could clearly see in his face that, for the moment, practical Stannis was in charge and awkwardly romantic Stannis was nowhere to be found.

 

“I would love to stay with you, but I must have a meeting with the team.  Now that I know Baelish is setting a trap for us, we have to come up with a new plan of action,” he informed her, as if reading her thoughts.

 

“It’s the middle of the night, Stannis.  You could talk with them in the morning,” she suggested hopefully.  She really did want him to stay.  She wanted nothing more right then than to spend the night in his arms.  The thought of him leaving her alone was actually frightening after the emotional turmoil of the last few hours.

 

As if sensing her emotional need, he pulled her close and kissed her again.  “I’ll be quick and then I’ll come back to bed.  Besides, you need some rest.  Go to sleep and I’ll be here when you wake.”

 

Sansa couldn’t argue with that.  In fact, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open after Stannis mentioned sleep.  She nodded and didn’t resist as Stannis tucked her into bed and pulled the covers up around her.  She watched him stoke the fire and was asleep before he’d left the room.  For once her dreams didn’t become nightmares and her rest was blissfully undisturbed.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

“What makes you so convinced we can trust Sansa Stark now?”  Davos demanded, eyeing Stannis skeptically.  Stannis, Melisandre and Davos were gathered in Davos’ room just off the main corridor and although the room had been swept for listening devices, they were forced to keep their voices low.  Gendry had bunked in the servant’s quarters with the other drivers and they would have to fill him in later.

 

“She’s on our side now, I’m certain of it.  She showed me a letter that her mother had written to her, warning her that Baelish was not to be trusted.”

 

“Oh, and there isn’t any way such a letter could have been faked?  Are you sure you aren’t basing your trust on personal feelings you have for this girl?”

 

Stannis bit back his anger.  Davos had every right to question him, based upon what he had learned of he and Sansa’s relationship.  As number two in command it was, in fact, his job.

 

“She’s a woman, not a girl,” he corrected.  The term irritated him, although only a few days ago he had also referred to Sansa as a girl.  Calling her that now seemed inappropriate after everything that had happened.  “I see your point and I can’t argue with it.  I’ll admit that I am basing most of my confidence in Sansa on my judgement.  However, whether you trust her or not, Baelish doesn’t exactly need her assistance to sell us out.  His plan is already in place.  Sansa is the person who warned us of it.”

 

“Okay, point taken.  My next concern is that she’s on drugs and might be experiencing withdrawal symptoms soon.  It isn’t wise to trust a junkie,” Davos challenged, frowning at Stannis and crossing his muscular arms in a defensive posture.

 

“Again, I agree.  She bears monitoring, but Melisandre is on top of the situation.  Did you find anything to help with the symptoms?”  Stannis asked, turning to look at the redhead.

 

“Uppers, downers, you name it.  Most of the ladies here with their mobster boyfriends are on something and they were more than willing to share.  Seems like dating a gangster isn’t as rewarding as it sounds.  We can treat Sansa’s symptoms until we can get proper medical care for her.”

 

“Good.”  Stannis nodded before looking at Davos. “Satisfied?”

 

“For now.”  Davos snorted.  “I’ll defer to your judgement.  I’m ready to move on if you are.  What are your thoughts regarding Baelish’s plan to trap us?”

 

Inwardly, Stannis breathed a sigh of relief.  He couldn’t finish the mission without Davos’ support.  He was grateful for it, although it came with a healthy dose of skepticism.

 

“I don’t think Baelish is going to try anything while we are here at the dacha,” Stannis said.

 

“Why not?”  Melisandre asked calmly, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “They have us trapped and outnumbered.  Why not just take care of us now?  Arrest us, shoot us, we’re at their mercy.”

 

“If that was what they wanted, they would have already done it.  Why not when we first arrived?  No, I think they want a more public capture.  That is the only explanation for Baelish’s interest in Janos Slynt and the extra security patrols.”

 

“You’re referring to the assignment that Sansa told you about?  The one where she was supposed to convince Slynt to add patrols comprised of city police to the train-yard north of Minsk?”  Davos asked.

 

“Yes,” Stannis replied.  “Why else would Baelish be interested in a security detail at the train-yard?  He wants to have his own men in place when the shipment of nuclear waste arrives.”

 

“So he can be hero who arrests the foreign spies trying to steal the nuclear waste?”

 

“Not only that,” Stannis responded, “but he can also conveniently take control of the shipment.”

 

“You mean he can make a switch.  Sell the real waste to the terrorist of his choice and the Soviets would be none the wiser,” Melisandre added, as Davos and Stannis nodded in agreement.

 

“Exactly. And he has Trant there to make sure that any Red Army soldiers look the other way.  Dirty water is shipped in large barrels or tanks.  It isn’t easy to steal it.  The only way to make an exchange is in a rail yard, or truck depot ─ places where freight arrives.” Stannis said.

 

“After that it can be delivered by train or by truck to the buyer.”  Davos extrapolated.  “Baelish gets a promotion, and a handsome profit.  What’s in it for Tywin Lannister?  What’s his angle?”

 

“Lannister has it in for the communist regime.  His family was practically Russian royalty before the revolution.  He wants to regain all that power that his grandfather lost,” Stannis surmised.  “Allowing something like this to happen will make the higher-ups in Moscow look bad.  Tywin being on scene with Baelish to thwart the plot and save the day will position him nicely.  Someone in Moscow will get fired, sent to the gulag, and Tywin moves up in the ranks. Of course he’ll get his share of the profits too.”

 

“Win-win for Baelish and Lannister, while we end up either at the bottom of the river or in Siberia.”  Davos smirked.  “So how do we stop them?”

 

Stannis paused, his face grim.  “There is no good way out of this.  We’ve completely lost the element of surprise. That limits our options.  They brought us here first so they can keep close watch on us until we arrive at the rail yard.  They’ve made it impossible for us to intercept the train early or send a message for help,” Stannis replied, his voice tight with frustration.  He paused and looked at Davos and Melisandre in turn. “I have several ideas.  You aren’t going to like any of them.”

 

 

~~~

 

 

Sansa woke abruptly, feeling like something was terribly wrong.  The fire had died down and it was very dark in the room.  For a moment she didn’t know where she was.  She fought the rising panic that made her heart begin to pound and tried to sit up, only to realize that someone was holding her down.  She tensed reflexively until she heard a voice, hoarse with sleep, next to her ear mumble, “Shhhh, it’s still early, go back to sleep.”

 

Stannis.  The arm draped across her stomach belonged to Stannis.  All the memories of the previous evening came flooding back and Sansa smiled contentedly and relaxed into the bed, snuggling her body closer against him.  She knew he was probably exhausted, working so late with the team.  She knew they were in a dire situation that might result in their deaths.  But right now, the dacha was still, the heavy snow leaving them isolated.  Nobody would be waking any time soon, and she and Stannis were together, safe and warm for a little while longer.  She wanted to enjoy this last morning with her lover, the man she cared more about than anyone in the world.  She wanted to turn her mind and all the bad thoughts off, and focus on Stannis.  Thankfully, the effects of the pills she’d taken the night before had worn off and she was feeling surprisingly refreshed at the moment, although she knew the feeling would be short-lived if she didn’t find another source of medication soon.  

 

After a few minutes of blissful quiet, Sansa turned to face Stannis, delighted to find that he had come to bed dressed only in boxer shorts.  His rhythmic breathing indicated that he’d gone back to sleep.  Feeling only a little twinge of guilt, Sansa began kissing his jaw and neck, the rough stubble of his whiskers tickling her nose.  Her hands began exploring his body more thoroughly than she had during their first encounter, starting with his chest and moving down his abdomen.  His body was lean, but his muscles were firm under her touch.  She was surprised at how quickly she was becoming aroused simply from caressing him, as if she were doing something forbidden.

 

“Mmm,” Stannis murmured, attempting to burrow his face deeper into his pillow, clearly not yet awake but dimly aware of her presence.  She would change that soon enough.  Craving more intimate contact, Sansa removed her pajama top and wrapped herself tightly around him.  She gasped softly at the intense pleasure of her breasts against his chest, her nipples hardening quickly as the rubbed against his bare skin.  Since his face was partially obscured by the pillow, she kissed his neck again, sucking a bit more firmly this time.  She lowered her hands, already feeling his erection pressing against her thigh, she firmly traced the outline with her fingers, pausing to circle the tip, curious to feel him as she hadn’t the first time they were intimate.  She’d never touched a man in this way before and he felt surprisingly firm and hot.

 

“Fuck, Sansa,” Stannis swore under his breath.  That got him awake.  Sansa was delighted that her actions had caused him to use profanity since he was always so reserved.  She began stroking him through the thin cloth of his boxers.

 

“Does that feel good?” she asked, softly, eager to find out what he enjoyed.

 

“You have no idea,” he groaned.  Stilling her hands with his own, he laced his fingers between hers, preventing her from touching him.  “This time I’m the one saying _go slowly_ , unless you want this to be over sooner than either of us would like.”

 

“Slowly it is,” Sansa murmured against his lips.  She kissed him deeply as he let go of her hands and cupped her ass, squeezing gently as she pressed herself against him.  All remained quiet save for the small gasps and murmurs they made as they leisurely explored each other beneath the covers.  Sansa realized that Stannis had managed to work her pajama bottoms down over her hips and the desire to be completely naked in bed with him spurred her to remove them completely.  After some maneuvering, she managed to divest herself of them and Stannis did the same with his boxers.  They ended up kneeling on the bed, facing each other and Sansa felt the heat of Stannis’ gaze moving over her.  She couldn’t help but notice how his eyes fell on her breasts, her nipples quite stiff from arousal and the chill air of the room after the fire had nearly gone out.  He began to reverently caress the side of her breast with his fingertips and she shivered, partly from the cold and partly from his touch.

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Stannis asked, his voice deliciously gruff from sleep and desire.

 

Sansa nodded, biting her lip seductively.  “Absolutely certain.”

 

“You’ll tell me if I do anything that hurts you?”

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

She thought that he quite liked her addressing him as _sir_ since his eyes narrowed and he made a noise like a growl before pulling her back under the covers so that he lay partially on top of her.  Stannis stroked her hair briefly, brushing it away from her shoulders before moving down so that his face was over her chest.  He softly kissed the area in between her breasts, and the sides of each one, his hand tracing circles around but never touching her nipples until she became quite frustrated and attempted to shift so her nipple would come into contact with his lips.   His eyes found hers, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he sensed her desire.  

 

“Do you want me to continue?” he asked, the thumb of one hand maddeningly circling a nipple while the other hand caressed her lower belly.

 

“Stannis, stop teasing,” she whined.  “You know I want more.”

 

She saw his blue eyes darken with arousal and his expression became serious as he took her nipple into his mouth, the sudden searing heat burning a path through her core and straight between her legs.   She felt a surge of moisture, just as Stannis’ fingers burrowed between her thighs and began to stroke her where she craved it most.

 

“Oh, yes!” she hissed, her senses overwhelmed.  “Don’t stop.  Please don’t stop!”

 

She was too aroused to be embarrassed by the sound of her own voice begging for his attentions.  She bucked against his hand as he fingered her, shallowly at first and then deeper in response to her increasing need.  His mouth continued to lick and suck at her breast, even as his fingers brought her closer to the edge of orgasm.  When his teeth grazed her swollen nipple, now almost painfully sensitive, she cried out.

 

“Stannis!”  She could feel the itch of her climax so intensely that she was desperate to scratch it.  She clutched at his shoulders to get his attention.  “I want to feel you inside me.”

 

That was all the encouragement he needed.  He emitted a frustrated curse and rolled on his side, fumbling on the floor for his pants.  After what seemed an eternity, Sansa watched him secure a condom and roll it on his jutting erection.  When he noticed that she was busy fingering herself while she waited, he swallowed hard and swore again under his breath, his eyes almost black with lust.

 

Sansa smiled and reached for him.  Stannis positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly.   Sansa groaned and bit her lip, causing him to pause to make certain he wasn’t hurting her.  He wasn’t.  There was a slight burning and pressure but the sensation of him filling her was far more pleasurable than painful.  After shifting the angle of her hips and bending her knees it felt even better and she nodded and murmured for him to proceed.

 

Soon he was thrusting into her with purpose as he’d done the night before, but she couldn’t help but feel he was restraining himself more than when he was unaware that it was her first time.  No matter, if felt wonderful and she gave herself over to it, closing her eyes and relishing in the involuntary sounds he was making that grew louder with each jerk of his hips.  His back was slick with sweat as her fingers dug into this skin, her knees squeezing his body to keep him as close as possible.  She was still hovering on the edge when she moved her hand between them, craving more contact where she needed it most even as the tempo of his thrusting increased.  That additional friction pushed her over and she felt her inner muscles spasm in an uncontrolled moment of bliss.  Her knees dug into his ribs and she was vaguely aware of his own groan of relief as he came too.  

 

He felt heavy against her as he lay there a few moments, recovering his breath before rolling to the side.  They on their sides, facing each other for a time, simply content to gaze at one another, and Sansa wished they could lie in bed together all day.  Too soon Stannis rose and disappeared into the bathroom to wash up.  Sansa pulled the covers over her head and buried her face in his pillow, breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingered there while she listened to the water run.

 

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew he was calling her name.  She opened her eyes to find that he had stoked the fire and the flames now crackled, warming the room.  Stannis was dressed and sitting on the bed beside her.

 

“You’d better get dressed.  We don’t know when Tywin Lannister will arrive and I need to go over a few things with you before he does.”

 

Sansa nodded with a sigh.  Stannis was all business again and their beautiful interlude was over.  She didn’t know if they would ever spend another night in each other’s arms.  She started to say something to him, but quickly looked away.  What was the point?  She couldn’t find words to express what she was feeling now anyway.  Was this love?  She only knew her heart ached, and that she was afraid ─ for herself and for Stannis.  Neither of them had time to confront their emotions.  There was too much at stake.  She had wanted time to stop but it had only slowed down for a few peaceful hours.  She couldn’t hide any longer, she had to face the day and not dwell on the fact that it could be their last.

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

After her bath, Sansa had dressed quickly and applied only a touch of makeup.  She was finding it difficult to pin her braids up in her usual style.  Her hands had begun to shake.  She knew she should eat something, but her stomach wasn’t playing along.  Her body was starting to rebel again.  She needed a pill.  Stannis was in the bedroom.  Should she ask him about it now ─ or did that make her sound too needy?  When she heard a sharp knock on the door to their room it startled her so badly she dropped two of the pins she’d been holding.

 

“Who is it?”  Stannis demanded.

 

No answer.

 

Stannis glanced into the bathroom making sure she was dressed before opening the door a crack.  Sansa could make out the hulking frame of Sandor on the other side.

 

“Comrade Baelish wants a word with his niece,” he growled in Russian.

 

“Tell Comrade Baelish that we’ll be there shortly,” Stannis shot back.

 

“He said if she isn’t there in five minutes that I’m to bring her to him.”

 

“I said we’ll be there shortly,” Stannis said icily and shut the door in Sandor’s face.

 

Sansa stepped out of the bathroom and into Stannis’ waiting arms.  She couldn’t stop shaking and the room seemed so cold.

 

“I can’t do this,” she exclaimed, choking back tears. They’d had one night of happiness and now it was over.  It wasn’t fair.  Stannis was going to be arrested and killed, just like her father.  There was nothing she could do to stop it from happening.  She would be under Petyr’s control again.  It was all so hopeless.  

 

“I can’t face him again.”  She looked at Stannis, hands clutching his sweater, the feeling of panic swelling in her chest.  “Let’s leave!  If we can get to the car we can escape ─ we can cross the border!”

 

“Sansa,” Stannis said firmly, taking her hands.  “You know that isn’t possible.  The panic you’re feeling is from the drugs.  You’re experiencing withdrawal symptoms.”  

 

He led her to the bed and made her sit.  Fishing in his pants pocket, he removed a small vial and popped a little white pill into his palm.  “Here, take this.  Melisandre gave them to me last night.  You should take one every 4-8 hours.”

 

He handed the pill to Sansa and went to the sink to fetch a glass of water.  Sansa downed the pill with a few sips of water and tried to relax.  “I’m going to put the vial in your purse,” he explained, dropping the vial in her bag before returning to sit beside her.  “Take a few deep breaths and look at me.”  

 

Sansa did as she was told, gazing into his blue eyes which were narrowed in concern.  

 

“Better?”  He asked.

 

Sansa nodded.  Looking into Stannis’ eyes did make her feel calmer.

 

“Now I need you to listen very carefully,” Stannis continued, keeping his voice steady and soothing.  “You are part of the team now ─ _my_ team.   I need everyone to play their part.  I know you can do it.  You’ve been incredibly brave so far in asking for our help even though it was very dangerous.”

 

As he was speaking, Sansa felt the panic and the tremors slowly subsiding.  Even though she knew the pill wouldn’t take effect for a few more minutes, just the thought of it working, and of having more pills available when she needed them combined with Stannis’ words of support, was making her feel more in control.

 

“I know it will be difficult, but I need you to go along with what Petyr wants you to do.”

 

Sansa’s eyes widened.  She wasn’t expecting such a statement from Stannis.  “What for?”

 

“Petyr doesn’t know you’ve disobeyed him yet.  Spending the night with me was part of your original cover and he doesn’t know that we were intimate.  You’re supposed to break up with me publicly, but Tywin Lannister has yet to arrive.  If you do it today, Petyr will believe you’re still following his instructions.  I need him to continue to believe you’re on his side.  Can you do that?”

 

Sansa hesitated before nodding.  “Yes, I can, if that’s what you want.  Do you have a plan?  Is there a way out for us?”

 

There was a long pause, and she could tell by Stannis’ expression that the situation was as hopeless as she had feared.

 

“I’ve discussed it with Davos and Melisandre,” Stannis answered slowly, deflecting the question.  “The good news is that, thanks to Davos, we have weapons ─  small arms ─ and also explosives.”

 

“Explosives?” Sansa inquired, perplexed.  “How did he manage that?”

 

Something akin to a smile graced Stannis’ lips.  “It seems that Trant’s men aren’t very smart.  Davos filled a bag with explosives and during the meetup yesterday morning, nobody noticed when he placed it with the pile of bags being loaded into Trant’s car.  Those bags weren’t searched since they belonged to Trant’s group.  Later, Gendry made sure it was delivered to Davos’ room.”

 

“Trant would have had you all shot if they’d discovered what Davos had done!” Sansa gasped.

 

“That’s why we’re called the Impossible Missions Force,” Stannis remarked dryly. “Nobody said it would be easy.  The point is, now we have them with us.”

 

“What will you do with them?”

 

“First of all, we have to wait for Tywin Lannister to arrive.  We must find out what he has planned for the exchange at the rail yard.  Our plan to counter theirs will be dependent upon those details.”

 

“Why are you so sure that the nuclear waste will come by train?  Why not drive it from the reactor outside of Moscow to Minsk in trucks?”  Sansa queried, realizing that Stannis was still being vague and trying her best to pin him down on specifics.

 

“It isn’t likely that they would risk transporting cargo that dangerous by truck.  The poor condition of the Russian roads, and the difficulty in guarding the shipment, rules it out.  Besides, the disposal site in Minsk is near the rail yard, which makes that the most likely destination simply for convenience,” Stannis explained.  “We’re counting on Lannister and Baelish’s plan being some sort of transaction ─ our money in exchange for the shipment ─ taking place at the rail yard.”

 

“Even if you’re right,” Sansa argued, doubts beginning to rise again.  “Your team is outnumbered.  Trant has an entire army of men.  You can’t kill them all.  Even with explosives─”

 

They were interrupted by a determined knock on the door.  “Comrade Baelish has waited long enough.  It’s time for his niece to come with me!” Sandor demanded loudly from the other side of the door.

 

Sansa felt the blood drain from her face.  She felt a numbness engulf her as Stannis helped her to her feet.  

 

“You have to go now,” he whispered, kissing her gently on the lips and lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.  “I’ll contact you later, but for now do as Petyr says.”

 

Sansa nodded, closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath.  She focused her thoughts on her mother and father ─ on the sacrifices they’d made.  They’d died trying to fight for their ideals, for a better life for their children.  She could do this.  She could become Alayne again one last time.  She didn’t look back at Stannis as she grabbed her purse, opened the door, and joined Sandor in the hall.

 

~~~

 

Two minutes later Sansa was ushered into Petyr’s quarters.  She was struck by how large his suite of adjoining rooms was.  He had one room for sleeping, another for an office area, and yet another seemingly for entertaining guests.  It was the latter room where she found her uncle, seated stiffly in an uncomfortable looking wing-back chair.  She much preferred the cozy bedroom she’d shared with Stannis for a night.  

 

She instantly realized that Petyr was angry.  He didn’t bother to hide the fact.  Sansa had rarely seen him in such a state of agitation.  

 

“Why did you disobey my instructions?” he demanded straight off.  “You were supposed to break up with Stannis Baratheon in front of the others last night, and yet not only did you not do that but you shared a room with him.  What do you think Tywin Lannister will make of that?  Did you let Baratheon fuck you as well?”  Although he remained seated, his voice dripped with venom when he hurled the last accusation at her.

 

In a way it was a good sign that her actions had him so rattled.  That meant he was depending on her cooperation more than she’d imagined.  Sansa attempted to appear unconcerned, although inside her stomach felt as if it were tied in knots. She wondered if she looked different after sleeping with Stannis.  She wondered if Petyr could tell.  Of course he couldn’t, she told herself, irritated with the thoughts that threatened to undermine her confidence.  Petyr wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought he was.   She casually went to the tea service which was set on a nearby table and poured herself a cup before answering.  

 

“I haven’t disobeyed you,” she explained calmly.  “I didn’t break up with Stannis last night because the right opportunity didn’t present itself.  I thought it best to chat with him and pretend that I’m still working with him in order to find out what I could about his plans.  As for sleeping with him, he was hardly in the room at all.  He spent most of the night plotting with the other Americans.  Admittedly, I was quite exhausted and fell asleep early.  He didn’t return until I woke.”  

 

She sipped her tea before adding, with a note of indignation, “Of course I didn’t fuck him, as you so crudely put it.  Why would I jeopardize my ─ _our_ future like that?”

 

This seemed to placate Petyr.  His tone was more civil, although he still regarded her with suspicion.  “How did you know where he was?  Did he confide in you?”

 

“Yes.  He told me he was in Davos’ room, discussing plans for when Tywin Lannister arrives.  I wasn’t able to find out much.  They know there is little they can do until you tip your hand.  But I think Stannis trusts me now.  He wanted to sleep with me ─ but I managed to put him off.  I’ll break it off with him soon.  You needn’t worry.”

 

At that Petyr smiled, the furrows that lined his brow fading as he relaxed.  “I always worry when you don’t follow my instructions exactly.”  He sighed heavily, rising to his feet.  “Very well.  I trust that we are back on script and that you won’t disappoint me again.”

 

Sansa nodded.

 

“Now, I’ll escort you to the dining room.  They should be serving lunch.  I’ll introduce you to Tywin Lannister.  He arrived an hour ago.  I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet my lovely niece, Alayne.”

 

Sansa’s mouth went dry but she forced herself to take a breath and smile.  This was the beginning of the endgame.  If there was any hope of escape, the next few hours were critical.  She would need to put on the performance of her life.

 

~~~

 

Stannis was feeling uneasy as he entered the dining room flanked by Davos and Gendry.  The Hungarian-made, semi-automatic Beretta he’d secreted under his jacket did little to calm his nerves.  Melisandre had arrived before them, strategically attaching herself to Trant’s entourage.  They’d gotten word a few minutes ago that Tywin Lannister and his men had arrived an hour earlier.  Stannis instantly recognized Lannister holding court at the head of the table, while his guards helped themselves to plates of sandwiches and bowls of borscht.  The other guests, men and women, were either seated at one of several tables or remained standing in small groups.  The dull noise of conversation and clinking silverware filled the room.  

 

Tywin’s eyes met his almost immediately as Stannis paused inside the doorway.  Although Stannis already knew Baelish had blown his cover, he also knew Tywin would play the game and pretend they’d never met.  It was the game of deception that spies played, and the stakes were high.  Right now Lannister held the better hand.

 

Stannis glanced around the room.  Sansa was nowhere to be seen and he assumed that she was still meeting with Baelish.  His gut tightened at the thought of Petyr questioning her about last night.  He knew he worried about her more than he should ─ more than was good for the mission, but there was no time now for regrets.

 

“Ah, Mr. Baratheon, there you are!” Trant exclaimed upon seeing Stannis.  “Come, let me introduce you to Minister Lannister.”

 

“Good afternoon, General Trant.”  Stannis nodded as he approached the table.  He couldn’t help but notice that most of the men were already partaking heavily of the vodka, served from bottles near the buffet.  Their voices were loud and their postures relaxed, as if this was just any ordinary weekend in the country.  

 

Tywin Lannister, however, held a glass of what appeared to be water, with an open bottle of mineral water positioned close to him.   He sat stiffly in his chair, his tie straight and not a gray hair out of place.  He appeared much as Stannis remembered, with a regal bearing and pale blue eyes as cold as frozen steel.

 

“Minister Lannister,” Stannis greeted him in Russian, offering his hand.  “It is so nice to finally meet you.  This is my associate, Davos Seaworth.”  He didn’t bother to introduce Gendry, as bodyguards were usually treated as servants.  “I hope your journey wasn’t too unpleasant.”

 

Tywin regarded him coolly, eyes moving briefly over Davos’ face and then back to Stannis.  He made no move to stand, or to shake hands.  When he finally spoke, he replied in English.  

 

“We Russians are used to harsh winters.   While heavy snows can be inconvenient at times, they can also be used to our advantage; the Germans found that out during the war.  Did you serve in the war, Mr. Baratheon?”

 

Stannis continued to meet his gaze, keeping his expression blank.  Lannister was testing him already.  

 

“Yes, of course.  I fought for the winning side ─ the same as you.”  

 

Tywin Lannister raised an eyebrow at that, and Stannis quickly changed the subject.  

 

“But I hardly think that the snow was an advantage this time,” he said, “as it delayed our business.”

 

“The snowfall allowed you to spend an extra day at the dacha as my guest,”  Lannister countered, his gaze moving past Stannis’ shoulder, causing Stannis to look behind him.  

 

Petyr Baelish stood in the doorway with Sansa.  

 

“I trust that you enjoyed yourself?”

 

Petyr and Sansa approached the men.  Stannis turned to greet them, bowing his head slightly to Petyr and smiling at Sansa.

 

“There you are, darling.  I wondered what was keeping you.”  Stannis leaned in to kiss Sansa’s cheek, but was shocked when she raised her hand and slapped him soundly across the face.  

 

The blow stung, and he rubbed his jaw gingerly as Trant’s men looked on, some laughing and some nodding in approval.  Most of the conversation in the room ceased as the men and women in attendance were curious and delighted by the sudden entertainment.  Gendry stepped between Stannis and Sansa, preventing a further attack, but as Sansa made no move to continue, Stannis waved him off.

 

“What on earth was that for?!” Stannis demanded, scowling at her.

 

“I know where you were last night,” Sansa announced.  Her temper vented, she now looked at him as a child who had greatly disappointed her.  “If you prefer the company of Melisandre to mine then by all means you are welcome to her.  I’ve arranged for my things to be moved to another room.  Please do not speak to me again.”

 

Before he could reply, Sansa turned away and took Petyr’s arm.

 

“Perhaps you should help yourself to something to eat, Mr. Baratheon.  My niece and I would like to have a word with Minister Lannister,” Baelish announced with a satisfied smirk.

 

Stannis moved away, still rubbing his jaw, and the conversation in the room resumed.  Melisandre came over to him, appearing to offer her support as she touched his arm gently, but Stannis jerked away, continuing to glare at Sansa.  Melisandre gave up and returned to mingling, while Stannis and Davos helped themselves to the buffet.  

 

Baelish and Sansa had taken seats at the table.  Sansa was seated next to Lannister and Baelish sat across from them.  Although he stood a few feet away, Stannis positioned himself so that the conversation of Lannister and Sansa was just audible over the background noise.  

 

“That was quite a dramatic entrance, Comrade Stone,” Lannister remarked casually.

 

“Thank you, Minister Lannister.”

 

“It wasn’t meant as a compliment.  I dislike women who seek attention,” Lannister replied disapprovingly.

 

Sansa showed no reaction to the rebuke.  

 

“I apologize for causing a scene, but in my experience some men do not respond to subtle words ─ especially American men.  I doubt that Mr. Baratheon will bother me again.”

 

“I understand,” Lannister nodded, his irritation diminished.  “Crude but effective.”  He took a bite of bread before continuing.  “Tell me, do you have experience with many American men?”

 

Again, Sansa didn’t appear rattled by his accusatory question.  “Only through the contacts of my uncle.  I’ve traveled with him on occasion and met foreigners at numerous state functions.  I find American men to be singularly lacking in manners.”

 

Stannis knew that was a lie, since Sansa had told him that he was the first American she’d met, yet it sounded utterly convincing.  She was playing the part of Alayne perfectly so far.

 

Lannister nodded, looking pleased.  “I agree.  I would like to discuss your impressions of foreigners further.  Perhaps over dinner tonight?”

 

Stannis was unable to hear Sansa’s reply as the arrival of a group of guests filling their plates made it impossible for him to linger near the buffet any longer.  He ignored a stab of anger as he, Davos and Gendry found seats at another table.  He didn’t want Sansa anywhere near Tywin Lannister and the thought of them making pleasant dinner conversation nauseated him.  It was a necessary part of the plan, however, and for the moment there was nothing he could do about it.  Once again he was reminded that the feeling of not being in control was one he detested.

 

“The lady has guts.  I’ll give her that,” Davos remarked, watching Sansa over Stannis’ shoulder.

 

Stannis knew it was a compliment that Davos had upgraded Sansa from “girl” to “lady.”  He nodded but made no comment.  Stannis picked at his food with no appetite.  Gendry, on the other hand, was wolfing his down.  Some of the other guests had finished their lunches and were leaving the dining room.  Stannis overheard talk of sleigh rides and hunting parties.  The guards with Trant and Lannister remained.  Over Davos’ shoulder, Stannis watched Melisandre, laughing with one of Trant’s officers, the man called Yoren, who had been at the club.  

 

“It looks like Melisandre is making a few friends in Trant’s camp.  I hope it pays off later.”

 

“I could try and disable a few of their cars,” Gendry offered, wiping his mouth with a napkin and keeping his voice low.  “In case we need to make an escape.  It would limit their pursuit.”

 

“No,” Stannis shook his head.  “There is no escape for us at this point.  That would mean the mission has failed and the shipment is under Baelish’s control.  I know it’s difficult to sit here and do nothing, but we have to wait a little longer and see what those two have planned.”  

 

He turned his head to glance at Baelish and Lannister.  As if on cue the two men rose and made their way toward Stannis’ table.  Lannister said something to Sansa and she gave a slight bow of her head, followed by an unreadable look at Stannis before leaving the room.  Stannis, Davos and Gendry rose to their feet as the men approached them.

 

“Mr. Baratheon,” Lannister addressed him, while Baelish and Trant stood at a slight distance away.  “Now that we’ve all eaten, it’s time that we go somewhere more private to discuss business.  Tell me, do you swim?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the spotty updates. I'm taking another trip, this time overseas next week and also I signed up for a fic exchange and the deadline is next week. Excuses Lol. That said, I plan to post the next three chapters starting today, over the next week (fingers crossed for hotel wifi). The good news is that the chapters are all long ones! Then, there may be a slight delay while the last chapters are beta read. But, it looks as if there will be 18 chapters and an epilogue unless I get wordy like these notes :) thank you all for reading and for all your wonderful comments! I really enjoy reading them and they brighten my day every time!


	15. Chapter 15

 

Stannis was well aware of the Russian custom of conducting business meetings in bathhouses.  Many modest homes throughout the Soviet Union had their own sauna, or banya.  Lannister’s dacha not only had a banya, but a full-size swimming pool, gym and massage room.

Lannister had insisted that the meeting was to be men only, the decision makers, no women or bodyguards allowed.  Stannis had to admit that inviting them there to meet was a shrewd move by Lannister.  As he and Davos entered the changing room it was obvious that they would have to discard their guns and hide them, either with their clothing or nearby.  Lannister had rendered their weapons useless.

As they stripped, the two men discreetly concealed their firearms in a basket of towels.  Stannis wondered if the guns would still be there when they returned.  

Their host provided swim trunks and towels and in minutes the five men ─ Stannis, Davos, Lannister, Baelish, and Trant ─ were sitting on wooden benches in the banya with hot steam fogging their vision. Under different circumstances Stannis might have relaxed, but the nature of the situation made it impossible.

“What makes you think I can trust you, Mr. Baratheon?” Tywin asked bluntly, leaning back with a white towel draped around his shoulders.

Stannis had expected the question.  Lannister knew full well that Stannis was a spy, and Stannis knew that Lannister knew.  They would continue to play this ridiculous game until one side made a mistake ─ one that would prove fatal.  

What Lannister didn’t know was that Stannis knew everything about Petyr’s duplicity.  Lannister also didn’t know that Sansa was now actively on the side of the IMF.  Stannis could only hope that advantage would prove to be the tipping point to push the odds of winning in their favor.  For now, Stannis and the team would have to continue playing their parts to perfection.

“I’ve done business with Comrade Baelish many times.  I’m certain that he will vouch for my trustworthiness,” Stannis replied, looking pointedly at Baelish.

“Of course,” Baelish responded with a sly grin.  Trant reacted with a smirk that did not go unnoticed by Stannis.

“My partners and I are willing to pay your asking price and have the money wired to the bank account of your choice.  Your bank can confirm the transaction.  That should be proof enough,” Stannis added.

“The money is of little concern to me,” Lannister said.  Stannis noticed Trant’s eyes widen and the smirk fall from his lips while Baelish’s expression remained impassive.  “Don’t misunderstand me, I intend for you to pay handsomely for what I’m offering.  I think one million U.S. dollars should be a fair price.  However, I’m more interested in what happens after the exchange.”

“How so?” Davos asked.

“Once you leave Belarus with the shipment, there can be no evidence linking the radioactive cargo back to me.  I don’t care what you do with it, as long as there is no hint of my involvement.  Is that understood?”

“There won’t be,” Stannis assured him, although he knew what Lannister was telling him was only partially true.  Lannister didn’t want the transaction connected with him, but the team was never going to make it out of Belarus if Tywin had his way.  “You have my word.”

Tywin’s unblinking stare indicated that Stannis’ word didn’t reassure him in the least, but he made no argument.

“The shipment will arrive in Minsk by train tomorrow night.  General Trant’s men will be escorting it.”

“Da,” Trant nodded, his beard glistening with moisture from the sauna.  “A dozen soldiers will ride on train.”

“The nuclear waste and the soldiers will be located in a car near the end, traveling with a routine shipment of freight.  When the train arrives in Minsk,” Tywin continued, “the car will be diverted to a side track, and the soldiers will be joined by the security detail provided by Comrade Slynt.”

“Those men were chosen for their loyalty ─ to me, of course,” Baelish added smugly.

“The water is contained in barrels that will be transferred into a truck for you.  We’ll have another truck with barrels of clean water waiting to be transported to the disposal site,” Tywin said.  “Your team will drive away with the hazardous waste and you’ll be provided with papers to cross the border into Poland.  From there, you are on your own.”

“How many barrels?” Davos asked.

“Thirty barrels, each holding two hundred liters,” Lannister replied.

“I presume the barrels will be lined.  I don’t want to risk my team being exposed,” Stannis warned, scowling.  

Lannister’s eyes narrowed.  “Surely you’ve done your homework, Mr. Baratheon.  Tritium can’t penetrate the walls of a steel drum.   It’s only harmful if inhaled or ingested.  It’s more of a nuisance waste particle than a truly radioactive danger such as plutonium.  That’s what makes it easy to transport.  I assume you’re going to use it to poison a water supply or some other nonsense.”

“I’m going to sell it to the highest bidder, just as you are,” Stannis snapped, ready for the negotiating to end.  His hair was damp with sweat and the heat was beginning to feel oppressive.  “Terrorists will want it and governments will pay good money to keep it out of their hands.  I’m not a scientist or a radical, I’m a businessman.”

“Very well. We have a deal.”  Tywin rose, patting his face with his towel.  “Now, shall we cool off in the pool?”

After a bracing swim in the relatively cooler water of the pool, the men gathered in the changing room again and Tywin went over the final details.  Stannis immediately noticed that the basket of towels holding their weapons was still there.  At least one thing was going their way.

“You may enjoy another night of my hospitality,” Tywin declared, buttoning his dress shirt.  “Tomorrow we will drive back to Minsk ─ together.  We’ll meet at the rail yard when the train is due to arrive.”

“That won’t be possible,” Stannis said.  “My associates and I will need to return to Minsk to complete the wire transfer of the money.  We’ll meet you at the rail yard after our business is concluded.”

“No,” Lannister replied emphatically.  “I insist that we travel together for security reasons.  I’m sure you understand.  One of you may go to the bank ─ perhaps the woman traveling with you ─ Melisandre, isn’t it?  She will be escorted, of course.  General Trant can see to that.”  

He glanced at Trant, who was busy lighting a cigar.  “Da,” Trant replied, “it will be done.”

“Comrade Baelish,” Lannister continued, turning to Petyr.  “You should go with her to confirm the transfer.”

“Certainly,” Baelish answered.  “I’ll take care of it.  I can drop Alayne at the flat before we meet at the rail yard.  She needn’t be involved in the rest of it.”

“No.  I want her there,” Lannister ordered.  “I think she may find it educational.”

Tywin met Stannis’ gaze and his eyes were as dark and lifeless as a shark’s.  A knot tightened in the pit of Stannis’ stomach.  What was Lannister planning and what did it have to do with Sansa?

“As you wish,” Petyr said.

There wasn’t anything Stannis could do but agree to the plan.  Lannister was in control for the moment.

“Very well,” Stannis reluctantly agreed.  “We will go with you tomorrow to conclude our business.”

Trant grinned, slapping Stannis on the back, making Stannis cough from the sudden contact and the cloud of cigar smoke that the general blew into his face.  “Good!  Now we go drink vodka and play billiards.  Perhaps you are better at that game than backgammon?”

It would be another twenty-four hours before they would leave for their final destination.  He had to speak to Melisandre and somehow have a word with Sansa — all under the watchful eyes of Trant, Lannister and Baelish.  Stannis realized it was going to be a very long night.

~~~

After an extravagant supper of roasted pheasant with plum sauce, potato soup and almond torte, which Stannis barely tasted, many of the guests retired to the game room to drink and socialize.  Sansa was next to Tywin at dinner and now sat across from him in a far corner, playing a game of chess.  Stannis leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, holding a billiard cue,waiting for his shot.  As he watched Sansa, she laughed and touched her earring, a nervous tic that Stannis had noticed before.  Keeping his distance was driving Stannis crazy.  He wondered what they were talking about.  Was Tywin pressuring her in some way?  He wanted to cross the room and pull her away but he had to trust her to play the part of Alayne flawlessly.

“You lose two women in one day?  Very bad luck. You need a drink!”

Stannis had been so focused on Sansa that he hadn’t realized that Trant had finished shooting and was standing beside him.  The general was gazing at Melisandre, who was engaged in a lively game of cards with several of Trant’s men, including Yoren.  From the way that the men were looking at her, she appeared to have won them over.

“You like redheads?” Trant continued.  “I like blondes.  Redheads are trouble.”  He began to laugh.  “After this game I find you another woman.”

Stannis attempted a smile and leaned over the table for his shot.  Glancing up, he caught Davos’ eye.  Davos was sitting at the bar with Baelish and Gendry.  Davos responded with a nod that was imperceptible to anyone but Stannis.  A moment later, Davos said something to Baelish and made his way out of the room.  

Stannis moved back to the wall as Trant stepped forward to shoot.  He stared at Melisandre until he caught her looking back at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment and then she said something to the men at her table that made them laugh and she grabbed her purse and left the room.  A few minutes later Stannis pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.

“I’m going for a piss and to get some air,” he announced to Trant.  He waved Gendry over and handed him his cue. “Shoot for me.”  Gendry nodded and Stannis leaned in close so only he could hear as Trant moved away from them to the billiard table.

“Davos will fill you in later tonight,” Stannis whispered over the din of conversation before patting Gendry on the shoulder and leaving the room.  Although it was extremely difficult, he forced himself not to look at Sansa on his way out.  Reminding Tywin that she’d recently played the part of his mistress would not be doing her any favors.  He didn’t want to complicate her job further.

Once outside, Stannis made his way through the main dining room and down a long corridor to the nearly deserted solarium, the designated meeting place that the IMF had agreed upon when they’d first arrived.  He found Davos standing next to Melisandre, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window at the snow-covered garden, illuminated in the moonlight.

“Thoughts?” Stannis asked, coming directly to the point as he stood beside them.  He knew that Davos would have already filled Melisandre in on the meeting with Lannister.  Although he kept his voice low, the size and openness of the room made it impossible to plant listening devices effectively.  As long as they stayed away from furniture and potted plants, they could speak freely.

“We have to use the explosives to destroy the track before the train arrives.  We might be able to overpower the city guard, but not them _and_ the Red Army guard,” Davos said at once.

“So what if we destroy the track where they are diverting the railcars with the tanks?  Won’t they just route them to another track?  It’s a busy railyard — there are dozens of tracks.  I don’t see any way of preventing the transfer of the rail car.”

“True,” Davos replied thoughtfully.  “My bet is that Lannister plans to have the rail car diverted to a siding in an isolated area of the railyard.  He has to allow for time to transfer the barrels containing the radioactive water onto the truck.  Those barrels are heavy and it will take a forklift or several strong men to move them, so he needs a quiet spot,” Davos explained.  “You said it yourself, it’s a busy yard.  An explosion will attract attention.  It will delay the transfer and provide the diversion we need to overpower the guards and take out Baelish and Lannister.”

“I’ve been working on Trant’s men,” Melisandre added.  “I think I can persuade a few to support our side.  They aren’t thrilled with Trant’s deference to Baelish.  They’re soldiers and they have no respect for a general who takes orders from a government official with no military background.”

“Good,” Stannis replied, staring thoughtfully into the darkness outside.  “We could use more weapons.  Perhaps we can _borrow_ a few from Trant’s men.  How do we plant the explosives ─ and where?  We won’t have a moment where we aren’t being watched.”

Davos paused a moment before continuing.  “Sansa will have to do it.  She’s the only one who will have the opportunity.”

“No,” Stannis growled emphatically, narrowing his eyes at Davos.

“I know you don’t like it, but it’s the only way,” Davos insisted.  “She─”

“No!” Stannis interrupted, glaring at him.  “It’s too dangerous.”

“Davos is right,” Melisandre said.  “She has to do it.  You can’t let your feelings jeopardize the mission, Stannis.”

“I’m not,” Stannis argued defensively.  “It’s risky.  She isn’t trained for this.”  

Even as he said it, Stannis knew his protest was useless.  Davos and Melisandre were right, but his imagination continued to fuel his worst fears.  What if she were caught?  Neither Baelish nor Lannister suspected her now, but if she were caught betraying them, she might be killed.  At the end of the day, no matter what happened to him, Stannis wanted Sansa to be safe.

“The C4 will be in a briefcase,” Davos said, naming the explosive they would use. “I’ll connect a timer to the latch.  She only has to place the case where it will be most effective and flip the latch to activate the timer.  I’ll set it for five minutes to give her time to get away.”

“She has an overnight bag with her ─ a valise.  It has a latch.  Would that work?” Stannis asked.

“Perfect,” Davos replied.

“In the confusion we’ll overpower the guards,” Melisandre continued.  “The main objective is eliminating Baelish and Lannister.  Without them, the dirty water isn’t going anywhere.  Trant doesn’t have the contacts to sell it on the black market or move it even if he did.  If we neutralize the two of them, our mission is accomplished.”

“Lannister’s death will attract attention.  Our superiors will not be happy,” Stannis objected.

“We don’t have a choice.  What other option is there?” Davos asked.

Stannis considered what his advisors had said for a few moments before making his decision.  

“I don’t like it, but it’s all we’ve got.  Sansa will plant the bomb.  If she can get close to the truck, that would be most effective.  Any damage to the truck and they would have to find a replacement.”

“I agree,” Davos said.  “But if she can’t, then anywhere close to the rail car will do.  Most of Trant’s men will be occupied moving the barrels.”

Stannis nodded.  “We make our move when it goes off.  During our escape, Baelish and Lannister are neutralized.  Then we get the hell out of Belarus.”  He paused a moment and looked at Davos and Melisandre in turn before adding, “And we take Sansa with us.”

Both of his teammates voiced their agreement.

“She will certainly be granted asylum,” Melisandre said.  “She would be escaping political persecution due to her father’s arrest for treason.”

“Good.  Then it’s settled.  Davos, you update Gendry and I’ll find a way to get word to Sansa.  Melisandre, you keep looking for a weak link among Trant’s men and see about getting us a few more weapons.  For better or worse, tomorrow night this assignment will be over.”

Neither Davos nor Melisandre commented, but the three of them regarded one another with a brief moment of emotion ─ the sadness of close friends saying goodbye for the last time ─ rather than agents who occasionally worked together.  Then his colleagues departed, leaving Stannis alone, staring into the darkness and wondering what he was going to say to Sansa.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Sansa turned out the light on her nightstand and climbed into bed.  The moonlight reflecting on the snow outside sent a pale glow radiating through the window that made it easy to see.  Although it was after midnight and she was exhausted, she knew sleep would not come easily this night.  Thoughts of Stannis, her uncle Petyr, and Tywin Lannister twisted in a tangled jumble inside her head.  The pills Melisandre had given her had helped to control her sudden panic attacks, but her hands still tremored occasionally and her heart would thud rapidly whenever she thought about the immediate future.  

She’d spent the evening trapped in the company of Tywin Lannister.  Stannis was in the same room, but she couldn’t afford to look at him for more than a few moments.  It was torture.  Two nights ago she was with Stannis, talking and flirting, having a wonderful time despite the seriousness of their situation.  Last night she became his lover and this morning, lying beside him, she’d felt as if she’d known him forever.  Tonight she was in the company of a man who’d spoken to her as if he were interviewing her to be his maid.  No doubt if she married Tywin Lannister, he would treat her like a servant ─ one whose duties included selecting his ties and bearing his children.  She’d played her part well.  Alayne had been her usual charming self, laughing whenever Tywin had said something clever and listening with rapt attention to his stories.  And yet there was something odd in the way that he looked at her.  She wondered if he knew the truth.  Had Petyr told Tywin everything about her background?  Worse still ─ was Tywin Lannister involved with her father’s arrest?

She was startled from her troubled thoughts by a shadow falling across her bed.   Her breath caught in her throat. Someone was standing outside her window!  It seemed impossible because her room was on the second floor.  She was scrambling from her bed, wondering what she could use as a weapon or whether she should call for Sandor when she heard a gentle tap on the glass.  

Stannis!  She immediately realized she was being ridiculous.  Of course it was Stannis.  He’d said he would contact her, but she hadn’t thought it would be possible to see him again and she’d never expected to come to her room with Petyr sleeping in another room just a few feet away.

She was at the window in a second, fumbling for the latch and pushing it open.  Outside there was a narrow Juliet balcony ─ really no more than a decorative ledge ─ on which Stannis was balanced.  He carefully climbed into the room, accompanied by a blast of frigid air.  Despite the clear night, his hair and shoulders were covered in snow.

“Stannis!  How─” she began before Stannis’ finger shot to his lips indicating for her to be quiet.  He pointed to his ear and she understood immediately that the room was probably wired.  She helped him brush off the snow from his clothes as he pulled her into the bathroom and shut the door.  He turned on the faucet, which began to spout a stream of water after a few moans and clanks of the ancient pipes.  Over the sound of the running water they were able to speak softly.

“Stannis. You’re so cold,” Sansa said, holding his hands and rubbing them.  They were ice cold, and Stannis, dressed only in a sweater and trousers, was visibly shivering.  The remaining snow was melting, leaving his clothes damp. “How did you get on the balcony? Why are you covered in snow?”

“I crossed over several balconies to your room.  Thankfully, the curtains were drawn in the other windows.  I held onto the overhang of the roof for balance, but there was a layer of snow from last night and I ended up cov─”

Throwing her arms around his neck, Sansa kissed him hard on the mouth, silencing his explanation.  She couldn’t believe he was here in her room after she’d resigned herself to the fact that she might not ever be alone with him again.  He seemed not to mind her abrupt show of affection and returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm.

“I came here to talk to you about our plan for tomorrow,” Stannis explained after they reluctantly parted.

“No,” Sansa replied firmly, tugging at his sweater.  She could tell from the worry lines on his forehead that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.  “You’re still shivering.  You need to take off these wet clothes.”

“Sansa, I need to brief you,” Stannis argued.  She ignored him, forcing him to lean forward so she could pull his sweater over his head.

“You could have sent Melisandre to brief me, but you came yourself.”  

She could feel the goosebumps pimpling his bare shoulders as she began rubbing her warm hands over his skin.  He shivered again and she wondered if this time it was from her touch.

“I wanted to see you again, yes ─ and to make sure you were safe — but we have to have a serious talk.”

“Later,” Sansa replied, touching two fingers to his lips to shush him.  “Talking about the plan, about what will happen tomorrow, makes me anxious.  I’ve rarely been happy these last few years, Stannis, but I’m happy right now.  I’m happy when I’m with you.  Let me be happy a little longer.”

“Sansa, we mustn’t let our feelings cloud our judgement,” Stannis argued as she began to unbuckle his belt.

“Oh you have feelings too, do you?  I wasn’t sure.  What are you feeling?”  Sansa teased.  

The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile while she unfastened his trousers.  Stannis looked so conflicted that she almost felt sorry for him.  It was obvious that he was struggling to maintain his composure.

“You know that I care about you ─ more than I’ve cared for anyone in a long time,” he began, meeting her eyes briefly and then looking away.  “But now isn’t the time─”

Sansa’s heart swelled.  She knew Stannis well enough now to know that simple admission from him was the equivalent of a love sonnet.  Stannis didn’t say things that he didn’t mean.  It was all she needed to convince her to make the most of their time alone.  

“Well, you can talk about whatever you want.  I won’t stop you,” she said, cutting him off.  “There’s only one problem with that.”  

She reached behind him and turned off the water.  The room was suddenly quiet.  

Stannis eyes widened in surprise and immediately narrowed.  He glared at her as he silently mouthed the question, _What are you doing?_  

Her answer was to press her lips to his chest, kissing a line down his lean torso while sinking to her knees on the white shag bath rug.  Stannis immediately put his hands on her shoulders, as if to push her away, and yet they were gently holding her in place while he was shaking his head emphatically and mouthing, _No_.  

Sansa wet her lips and looked up at him, nodding her head and mouthing a sultry _Yes_ while fingering the waistband of his boxers.  This was something she’d thought about but never imagined herself doing until now.  She wanted to make this time together perfect for Stannis ─ to make him forget the ever-present danger and make those worry lines on his forehead fade.  It wasn’t working just yet, though.  Stannis looked positively stricken with guilt when she freed him from his shorts and began to touch him, his rapidly thickening member revealing his arousal.

She used the palm of her hand to stroke him ─ firmly but not too firmly ─ as she remembered Madame Chataya instructing her.  From the look on Stannis’ face, Sansa seemed to be doing it right.  His lips were parted and his eyes nearly closed in evident bliss.  She watched his stomach muscles clench as he stifled a groan.  The fact that she could do anything she wanted to him and he had to remain absolutely silent made Sansa’s face flush with heat.  To her astonishment, she felt herself growing quite wet.  She had never considered that a woman could derive enjoyment herself from performing this act on a man, though Stannis had seemed to enjoy it when he’d used his mouth on her.  Admittedly, her memory of that time was a bit muddled.  

This time, however, she was fully aware of what she wanted.  After a couple of minutes of coaxing him to full erection, she suddenly ran her thumb across the head, fascinated by the amount of fluid leaking from the tip and how wet he was becoming.  Her touch caused Stannis’ eyes to shoot open, and he stared at her glassy-eyed, nearly falling into the wash basin behind him, his hands moving to grip the stand tightly for support.  Sansa smiled up at him innocently, making a production out of wetting her lips which always seemed to get his full attention.  This time was no exception.  His eyes were riveted on her mouth and she could tell from the rise and fall of his chest that the rate of his breathing had increased rapidly.  He wanted this more than she could have imagined.  

She slowly engulfed the head of his cock, letting it rest on her tongue as her warm breath washed over him.  Stannis’ eyes closed again, his head tipped back and his lips pressed together, forming a tight, thin line.  He made a barely audible sound akin to a whimper and she felt his thigh muscles flex.  She was startled by his hips moving forward slightly, causing his member to penetrate farther into her mouth, and she released him immediately, which produced a wild look of disapproval.   _Don’t_ , she mouthed, shaking her head.  

She reasoned that it must be obvious to him by now that she’d never done this before, and she rather thought the idea of her inexperience was turning him on.  The look of utter frustration on his face was priceless.  He reached out and caressed her cheek, his eyes pleading with her to continue and she obliged him, gripping him firmly as she took him back inside.  His fingers threaded through her hair, gripping behind her head, but not too tightly.  

She focused her concentration on not hurting him with her teeth, as she’d been told men were very sensitive to that.  She couldn’t take him very deep, but he didn’t seem to mind as long as she used her tongue and lips to massage the head of his cock while her hand kept stroking his shaft.  She was just starting to tire of the repetitive motion when Stannis’ hand left the back of her head to cover her own.  

Stannis guided her movements, forcing her to apply more pressure and setting a pace so rapid that she was certain that she must be hurting him.  Soon he was breathing harder, practically panting and he tensed again.  Sansa suddenly panicked, realizing what was about to happen and that she wasn’t sure if she was ready to have a man finish in her mouth or not, and wondering if it was very bad manners not to let him.  Stannis made the decision instead; pushing her out of the way and stumbling to the toilet, he gave his cock several final short strokes and came in his hand with a muffled gasp, the excess fluid dripping into the bowl.  When he’d finished, he pressed the palm of his other hand against the wall, leaning heavily on one arm, head down as his breathing slowed.  

Sansa got to her feet and stood behind him.  Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed the back of his shoulder before resting her head against him.  Part of her wanted to hold him like this all night, and part of her wanted to take him to bed.  With a sigh, she let him go.  She handed him a cloth and while he wiped himself off, she pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it to the floor at his feet.  She had his attention immediately.   She stood still a few moments, posing, feeling a thrill as his eyes lingered on her breasts.  Taking her time, she lowered her panties over her hips and down her thighs, then stepped out of them.  Teasing, she let them dangle between her thumb and index finger for a moment before handing them to him, knowing he would feel how damp they were from her arousal.  Stannis examined them briefly, then gave her a long, hard look that made her shiver with excitement.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Without a word, she turned and walked to the bedroom, warmed by the heat of his gaze.

~~~

Stannis realized that he had dozed off, despite his best efforts to stay awake.  Thankfully, the persistent buzz of the alarm on his wristwatch woke him at precisely 4:30 am.  He’d only had a couple of hours of sleep but he was grateful for what he could get.  Sansa, snuggled against him, one arm draped possessively across his waist, continued to sleep.  If he closed his eyes again, he could almost convince himself that the mission was all a bad dream and he and Sansa were safe in bed together on holiday in some tropical locale.  But, his sense of duty banished the self-indulgent thought from his mind and he set about waking her as gently as possible.  He brushed a few strands of hair from her face, caressing her cheek softly until her eye-lids fluttered open.

“What time is it?” she asked, drowsily.

Fortunately, he’d had the presence of mind, before they’d fallen into bed together last night, to locate and disable the three surveillance microphones that had been planted in the room.  After that, he’d been otherwise occupied, seeing to Sansa’s pleasure.  He was eager to return the favor after her unexpected, and much appreciated, actions in the bathroom.  Even now, the thought of her on her knees taking him into her mouth made his cock twitch hopefully.  Although it had been quite unfair that he was forced to remain absolutely quiet throughout the entire act while she wasn’t restrained at all in verbalizing her delight when he ran his tongue between her soft folds, he wasn’t going to complain.  At least they could speak freely now.

“Early,” he replied, kissing her forehead.  “But I have to go soon and we need to talk first.”

Sansa sighed and nodded.  The look of resignation on her face made his heart ache.  He wished he could wrap her in his arms right now and take her far away from the dacha, Tywin Lannister, and Petyr Baelish.  He wanted to take her someplace safe, but that was impossible.  She was committed now to the mission and the only way for him to protect her was to prepare her for what was to come.

“The plan is for you to accompany Petyr and Melisandre to the bank in Minsk.  Sandor and at least one of Trant’s guards will be with you.  Melisandre will wire the payment for the shipment to Tywin Lannister’s account in Switzerland.”

“But you aren’t really going to pay him, are you?”

“No,” Stannis replied.  “It’s all a scam.  The money isn’t real, but it doesn’t matter anyway since Tywin and Petyr both know that there isn’t any payment.  They know we’re agents but they don’t know that we know, so we still have to go through the motions.”

“It would be funny if it wasn’t a matter of life or death,” Sansa remarked. Her fingers sought out his hand and squeezed it gently.  “A comic farce, only instead of a pie in the face someone gets shot.  You’re going to kill them, aren’t you.”  

It wasn’t a question.  Stannis realized she already knew the answer but she still wanted him to tell her the truth.  There had been so many lies between them. Now was the time for full disclosure.

“Yes, Sansa.  We’re going to kill them.  There isn’t any other option.  If we stop them this time and escape, they’ll only cover their tracks and do it again.  Next time we won’t be there to stop them, and terrorists will be able to use a radioactive weapon against innocent people.  We can’t allow that to happen,” Stannis paused, lowering his eyes.  “If there were any other way─”

“I know,” Sansa interrupted.  “You aren’t the kind of man who enjoys killing.  I never thought you were.”

Stannis nodded, relieved that she understood.  “How do you feel about it?  You’ve lived under Baelish’s roof for over a decade.”

“Petyr betrayed my parents, and for that I loathe him.  But despite everything, I’ve never thought about killing him.  I only want to see him punished for his crimes and to find out the truth about what happened.”

“Are you willing to help us, then?  If he dies, you may never know the truth.  I need to know that you’re completely sure about this, because once you’re committed there will be no changing your mind.  Any hesitation could cost all of us our lives,” Stannis said, searching her face for any sign of doubt.

“I’m already committed.  Like you, I have no other choice.  I’m willing to do whatever you need.  What are my instructions?” Sansa replied without hesitation.

“Before we get to that … how are you feeling?” Stannis asked, his voice growing soft.  “Are the pills that Melisandre gave you working?”

Sansa nodded.  “My nerves are still on edge and my stomach is in knots a lot of the time, but I’m able to manage.  I still want to take more, but I know I can’t.  Don’t worry about me.  I’ll be fine.”

Of course Stannis was going to worry about her, but he didn’t pursue the point.  Instead, he nodded and began to lay out the plan.  He explained in detail about placing the explosives in Sansa’s bag.  Her eyes widened in apprehension when he mentioned the fact that there would only be five minutes for her to get away, but she listened to him without interruption, saving her questions for after he’d finished.

“You want me to place the bag near the rail car?  But Trant’s men will be transferring the barrels to the truck.  What if they won’t let me get close?  What if they stop me?”

“It doesn’t really matter where you place it.  The rail car, or near the truck, would be ideal because it would hamper the transfer, but the explosion is at best a diversion.  Place it wherever you feel safe.  I trust your judgement,” Stannis said.  He shifted on his side to face her, leaning on his elbow.  “Our team will be ready for it, but the rest of them won’t.  In the confusion, we’ll take out Baelish and Lannister and make our escape.”  

He hesitated, raising his hand to caress Sansa’s upper arm.  “Sansa, I want you to come with us ─ with me.  When we leave the country, that is ─ if you want to.”

Sansa looked at him with such tenderness for a moment he thought she was about to say yes, then unexpectedly she closed her eyes.  

“Oh, Stannis, you don’t know long I’ve wanted you to ask me that, and I want to say yes.  I really do.”  

She hesitated, releasing a deep breath.  She opened her eyes and Stannis saw that they were glistening with tears.  She took another breath, obviously forcing herself to hold them back.  Quickly wiping her eyes, she offered a tremulous smile. “Ask me again when this is over.  I can’t plan for the future when we don’t know if we will even be alive tomorrow.”

Stannis felt his stomach clench, feeling as if Sansa had rejected him.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d been counting on her saying yes until now.  Although he understood her reasoning, it still hurt.  His disappointment must have shown on his face because the next thing he knew Sansa was reaching out and pulling him close, kissing him with such intensity it took his breath.  

“My answer has nothing to do with the way I feel about you, Stannis,” she said after they parted.  “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but I’ve never felt closer to anyone.  I ─ I think I…” her voice trailed off as she struggled for the right words.

“Shhh,” Stannis whispered, then silenced her with another kiss.  “You don’t have to say anything now.  We’ll have time when this is over.  We’ll have lots of time to get to know each other.  You’ll soon be sick of all my annoying habits.  Did you know that I sing in the shower ─ and badly at that?”  

He was trying to lighten the mood and make her feel better, and it was clearly not his forte.  He cursed himself for a moment when her lips trembled, thinking he had made her cry again, but instead he was rewarded with a smile.

“I would never have guessed, but I want to hear it,” she said. “I want to know everything about you.”

They kissed again and held each other close for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet together until Stannis knew it was time to go.  Slipping out of bed he quickly washed up and dressed while Sansa donned a robe.  She emptied out her overnight case for Stannis to give to Davos to improvise the bomb.  When he was ready, she handed it to him.  There were no more words spoken between them, having said what was necessary and unable to verbally express the feelings that were more easily transmitted through soft touches and lingering glances.  There was no need to tell each other to be careful because they both knew that was understood.  They kissed one last time, knowing that next time they saw each other it would be under very different and far more unpleasant circumstances.  Then, Stannis climbed through the window and vanished into the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the gratuitous additional smut before the final showdown, but I thought we needed an interlude after all the complicated plot stuff ;)
> 
> I'm posting this today while I have a chance. The next couple of days will be hectic so I will post the next chapter probably on Monday. Thanks for reading and for all your wonderful comments!


	17. Chapter 17

 

The following day, time passed with agonizing slowness for Sansa.  Breakfast was a dull affair spent with Petyr and Tywin.  She forced herself to eat a few spoonfuls of porridge and a few bites of toast, all the while surveying the room for a glimpse of Stannis.  He arrived later, with Davos and Gendry, but they ate at a corner table, and after offering a quick greeting to their host, never glanced her way again.

 

Although she had no desire to spend more time alone with Tywin Lannister and her guardian, Sansa was thankful when Tywin suggested a sleigh ride since it would give her something to do besides sit and worry until it was time to leave.  An hour later they were gliding over the pristine layer of snow that covered the roads and surrounding landscape.  Sansa was warm in her furs, and under a blanket.  She was ensconced between her two companions as two sturdy black horses in full harness pulled them forward.  Despite the danger that awaited her later that evening, she had to admit that it was exhilarating to be riding through the countryside on such a beautiful day, listening to the clopping of hooves and the hiss of the runners over the snow.  The crisp air made her feel better, despite the nagging physical symptoms of her withdrawal from the pills.  She only wished that Stannis could be there with her to enjoy it.

 

“Estates such as this were common in my grandfather’s day,” Tywin explained as they gazed at the scenery.  “Now, most of them have been confiscated by the government and divided up into communal farms.”

 

“It’s very beautiful,” Sansa remarked.  “You’re fortunate to have access to such a place, Minister.  Did your wife enjoy coming here?”

 

Tywin’s expression hardened.  “Joanna died before the dacha was available to me.  It was long ago ─ an _accident_.”  

 

The bitterness in his voice made Sansa decide that it was a good idea to change the subject.  She wanted to bring up the plan for later, maybe she could learn something that would be useful to Stannis, but she didn’t know if her curiosity would cause Petyr to become suspicious.  She was surprised and relieved when he broached the topic himself.

 

“Sansa, we must go over the plans for this evening.  There can be no mistakes at this juncture,” Petyr said.

 

“I know,” Sansa replied.  “What are my instructions?”

 

“This afternoon, you will accompany Melisandre and me to the bank in Minsk.  Melisandre will complete the wire transfer to the bank account we specify.  Even though we know the transfer is a deception, it still has to take place.  The Americans’ contacts in the U.S. will be expecting the transfer, so we will proceed according to the original plan, so as not to alert their suspicions.”

 

“I still don’t see why it matters.  You are going to have them arrested anyway.  Why not do it now and get it over with?”

 

“Obviously, you do not appreciate the delicate nature of the operation, My Dear,” Tywin answered with an unmistakable tone of condescension.  “We do not want them arrested _as_ American agents.  That would attract international attention and cause an incident that would require government intervention.  We must maintain their cover as criminals attempting to obtain a nuclear weapon to sell on the black market.  Such an incident would be dealt with internally, by our own government.  American Intelligence would never dare to acknowledge that these people work for them.  There will be no interference as long as we are careful.”

 

“Also, if we arrested them now, officials in Moscow would insist on monitoring the disposal of the nuclear waste more closely.  Our access to the shipment would be limited, which would prevent any further possibility of selling it ourselves,” Petyr explained.  “Better to catch them in the act, as it were, when the shipment is already in our possession.”

 

“I understand,” Sansa said with a nod.  “What is my role specifically?  I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

 

“I can’t be seen at the bank,” Petyr continued.  “I don’t want the KGB to get any ideas that I’m funneling money to Western bank accounts.  Therefore, you and Melisandre will take care of business inside.  Take care to wear sunglasses and a hat to obscure your features, just as a precaution.  I will wait in the car with Sandor and Trant’s man, Moore.”

 

“Wait,” Sansa said, frowning.  “you are going to allow Melisandre to enter the bank unguarded?”

 

Petyr and Tywin exchanged a look that Sansa couldn’t decipher, then Petyr’s lips curled into a smug smile.   “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sweetling but we didn’t want to take the chance of tipping them off.”

 

“Melisandre doesn’t require a guard,” Tywin explained coolly.  “She works for us.  She’s a double agent, assigned to the KGB.  She and I have been personally acquainted for many years.  We wouldn’t have risked allowing the Americans to move freely about the dacha without having a man, or woman in this case, on the inside.”

 

Sansa felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach.  She fixed her eyes upon the ground rushing past beneath the horses’ hooves, but the movement produced a wave of nausea and she was forced to close them.  She took a moment to gather herself.  She could not allow the two men to see how shaken she was by this shattering news.  This couldn’t be true ─ if it were, they were as good as dead ─ Stannis and the rest of the team, herself included.  She couldn’t believe it of Melisandre, after she’d been so kind.  Yet, Tywin and Petyr were so convincing.  From the way Tywin had said _personally acquainted_ , she wondered if they were lovers.  Sansa quickly pretended that she was angry rather than stunned.

 

“I thought that _I_ was the woman on the inside.  I wish you had trusted me enough to confide in me,” she said shortly, opening her eyes and meeting Petyr’s gaze.  All the while she was thinking that she had to get word to Stannis.  But how?  Speaking with him alone again was impossible.

 

“As I said, it wasn’t that we didn’t trust you, but we couldn’t take the chance.  It doesn’t matter now; everything is out in the open.”

 

“No further explanation is necessary,” Tywin said.  His cool blue eyes studied Sansa appraisingly.  “Anger becomes you, Comrade Stone.  There is a flush on your cheeks that is most attractive.  However, you should not let your emotions get the better of you.  This is exactly why I maintain that women have no head for business.”

 

“I apologize, Minister Lannister,” Sansa responded without really registering what he’d said.  Her mind was racing, trying to remember exactly what she’d said or done in Melisandre’s presence, as if the mission was salvageable.  But it was no use, Melisandre knew everything.  She knew that Sansa and Stannis were lovers, she knew about the weapons, the explosives, and that Sansa had betrayed Petyr.

 

“After we reach the rail yard…” She realized that Petyr was telling her about the plan for the train yard but she wasn’t listening.  Keeping her expression neutral was a challenge, but she’d had a lot of practice.  She had to think.  It didn’t make any sense that Melisandre was working for Petyr.  If so, why hadn’t she told him about her being intimate with Stannis?  Maybe she had, and Petyr was just pretending not to know.  No, if Petyr knew he would have confronted her.  But why would Melisandre withhold that information?  The possibilities made her head spin.  There was something not right about all of it, but Sansa couldn’t do anything about it at the moment.  She felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat, allowed to run just far enough to believe that escape was possible, before it was pounced upon again.  She would have to play along, keep alert, and wait for an opportunity to warn Stannis.

 

“Do you understand?” Petyr finished.

 

“Yes,” Sansa replied, forcing a fleeting smile, not having heard a word.

 

“Good,” Tywin said, his tone suddenly lighter.  He clapped his gloved hands together, startling Sansa.  “Now, let’s go into the village and have some lunch.  There is a small, family-run establishment I want you to try.  There is an old babushka who is the cook.  She makes the best yushka I’ve tasted in this area.”

 

He signaled to the driver to take the left fork in the road and Sansa tried to ignore the growing feeling of dread, along with the tremors in her hands hidden beneath the blanket that covered her legs.

 

~~~

 

 

Stannis was beginning to feel the burn of exertion in his shoulders, the good kind of burn that came from a much needed workout, as he swam the length of the pool, pulling the water past him in long, fluid strokes.  He’d managed to grab another couple of hours of sleep and now he was trying to do something productive, something mindless to pass the time which seemed to move at a glacial pace.  He would need all his energy and his wits about him that night.

 

When he’d had enough, he climbed out, dripping and breathing hard.  Melisandre was there to meet him.  She was wearing a rather sheer robe that did little to obscure her sleek one-piece suit that accentuated her curves.  He noticed several men lounging on benches nearby, staring at her longingly.  Handing him a towel she spoke to him, keeping her voice low as he dried himself.

 

“Our plan for tonight has a rather dubious chance of success.”

 

“Granted,” Stannis said, his expression grim.  “But it’s all we’ve got, unless you’ve been holding out on me.”

 

Melisandre appeared thoughtful.  “I think I may have a plan B.”

 

“Oh?” Stannis led her to an isolated bench and sat, slowly drying his legs.

 

Melisandre sat next to him, staring ahead and speaking softly.  “I can’t tell you much about it.  It involves some of my contacts in Moscow.  You’ll just have to trust me.”

 

Stannis stopped toweling himself and studied her face carefully.  The success of his job depended heavily on his being suspicious of others.  He never took anything at face value, always searching for the hidden angle, the truth behind the lie.  He’d learned long ago to place his trust in his instincts.  They rarely steered him wrong.  His instincts told him that his teammates, including Melisandre, were trustworthy.

 

“I trust you, Melisandre.  Just, please, give me a signal if you are going off script.”

 

“I will, and thank you.”

 

They stood.  Stannis turned toward the changing room, but hesitated.

 

“You’ll be traveling with Sansa,” he paused, struggling for the right words.  

 

Melisandre’s eyes held his, her expression sympathetic.  “You’re in love with her.”

 

“Maybe.  I think so,” Stannis averted his eyes, suddenly feeling awkward.  This was unprofessional behavior.  He was crossing a line and he knew it.  “Just try to keep her safe if you can.”

 

He walked away without waiting for her answer.

 

~~~

 

“Is the food not to your liking?” Tywin asked as they sat beside each other at the small table by the window.  Sansa had hardly touched the soup and bread that the hostess had brought them twenty minutes ago.

 

“I’m not very hungry.”

 

Petyr had left them to make a phone call at the only telephone booth in the village square, as the tiny establishment had no phone.  He said he was going to call ahead and make sure that the cars were fueled and ready to go when they returned.  This was the first time that Sansa and Tywin had been alone, although the hostess hovered nearby, in anticipation of any additional requests from her guests.

 

“Pity,” Tywin said.  “The soup is excellent.  You never seem to have much appetite.  I wonder if such a delicate disposition is suited for a harsh climate like ours.”

 

Sansa stared into his eyes, trying to prove that she wasn’t intimidated by him.  Even though she hadn’t known him long, she realized that nothing she could do would ever be good enough to please this man.

 

“I was born in Moscow, Minister.  I’m stronger than you think,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

 

Sansa wondered once again if Tywin knew the whole truth about her background.  How much had Petyr revealed?  Had Tywin known her father?  Sansa remembered Stannis’ words from earlier, if Petyr were killed she might never learn the truth about what happened to her parents.  On the other hand, if she were killed it really didn’t matter.  She decided to be bold and attempt to find out more about Tywin’s involvement.

 

“I grew up in an orphanage.  Did you know that?”

 

“Of course I know.  I am aware that Petyr Baelish is not your biological uncle.”

 

“I lost my parents when I was quite young,” Sansa continued.  “I would be interested in knowing more about them, but except for Petyr, I’ve never met anyone who knew them.”

 

Tywin took another bite of bread and showed little interest in the conversation.  He swallowed and took a sip of water before speaking.

 

“Why don’t you ask me what you want to know?  You want to know if I knew your father,” he said flatly.  “The answer is yes, I knew Eddard Rickardovich.”

 

Sansa stopped breathing.  For years she had wanted so badly to learn something ─ anything about her father’s arrest, and now she dreaded what Tywin was going to say next.  

 

“I didn’t know him well.  As ambassador, he and I attended many of the same state functions.  I had also met with him at the embassy several times when I was scheduled to travel abroad.  He struck me as a competent politician.”

 

Sansa felt her grand hopes of learning any new information deflating, until Tywin continued.  “Later when I learned that he was a spy, I developed more respect for him, although it was tempered by my loathing for traitors.”

 

Sansa’s anger flared before she could keep it in check.  Who was this man to judge her father?  “Aren’t you a traitor, Minister?  At least my father was acting out of a sense of duty.”

 

Tywin raised an eyebrow, his expression cautioning her that he didn’t approve of her emotional outburst.  She wondered for a moment if she’d pushed him too far when she noticed his eyes darken.  His voice was sharp enough to cut glass.   

 

“I’m not betraying my country, I’m saving it.  The Soviets bungled the development of nuclear power from the very beginning.  These self-proclaimed leaders ─ the grandchildren of the peasants who decided they were more fit to rule than _generations_ of Russian royalty, the peasants who stole everything from my ancestors and distributed their fortune to the masses ─ these ignorant mid-level bureaucrats were handed the gift of atomic energy on a silver platter. _I_ brought them that gift.   _I_ brought them the German scientists and their wealth of knowledge.”

 

“I don’t see how they’ve bungled it at all,” Sansa interjected.  The change in Tywin’s manner was making her anxious.  The hatred in his eyes was frightening.  He’d gone from rude to fanatical.  “It seems that they’ve done a decent enough job of it.  Our government has the bomb and several working nuclear reactors.  The current arms race with the Americans is a testament to Soviet success.”

 

Tywin fixed her with a steely-eyed glare.  “Through dumb luck mixed with trial and error.   _Now_ they’ve put me in charge of the program ─ a position that I deserved from the beginning.  Years ago, they didn’t listen to me or to their own scientists; the arrogance of idiots who thought that it didn’t matter.  Every project was constantly being derailed by poor workmanship and local corruption.  They didn’t listen when warned of the danger…” his voice trailed off and his eyes sought out a point on the wall.  His voice was calm and oddly detached when he continued.

 

“A great price was paid for their incompetence but they were not the ones who paid it.  The leak at the reactor in Obninsk wasn’t detected until it was too late.  Hundreds were exposed.  Joanna and I had taken a house nearby while I worked on the project, but that day I had business in Moscow.  My wife died four months later in childbirth ─ my _son_ was born deformed.  He died a few days later.  None of it was made public.  Several contractors and plant workers were sent to the gulag but no officials were ever made to pay for their crimes.”  He paused before meeting Sansa’s uneasy gaze.  “They will pay now though.  I will see to that.  Your father wanted to allow outsiders to interfere in Russian affairs.  I intend to replace our defective leadership from within.  One day the Russian people will thank me.”

 

“I’m sorry about your wife and son,” Sansa said.

 

“I didn’t ask for your pity,” Tywin snapped.  “I was merely making a point about the difference between myself and your father.”

 

“So you had nothing to do with his arrest?” Sansa asked.

 

“No, I did not.”

 

Sansa stared out the window thoughtfully.  She had no reason to doubt what Tywin had said.  He had no reason to lie.  

 

As if reading her mind he smugly added, “Perhaps you should be asking that question of your _uncle_.”

  
Sansa watched Petyr walking toward the restaurant, returning from his phone call, and cold hatred chilled her heart.  It was if she suddenly accepted with certainty the truth that she’d suspected all along.  Tywin was right.  There was no secret government conspiracy.  There never had been.  There was only Petyr Baelish.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a brief pause in posting before the last chapters. RL forced me to focus on work things (how rude). I am hoping to finish posting this coming weekend though, fingers crossed! Thanks again for all your support - you guys are the best!


	18. Chapter 18

 

It was dark when they arrived at the railroad yard.  They’d entered through a seldom used road at the back, not much more than a frozen dirt lane cut through the woods.  Stannis’ back hurt from the jerking motion of the car as it bounced over the numerous potholes.  The gate was open, which meant they were expected, which did little to ease Stannis’ sense of dread.  His anxiety increased when they stopped next to a small stone building that appeared abandoned at first glance.  The headlights from their three vehicles illuminated a steel door, several windows protected by metal bars, and a platform with a metal staircase located at one end.  A single light, fixed to a post near the center of the building, cast a dim glow ─ the only evidence that the place was still in working order.  Parallel to the platform was a stretch of railroad track that had seen little use in the past several years.  Most of the ties were covered in snow, but the glimpses of rail that could be seen showed rust.  Stannis could barely make out the lights of the main rail yard in the distance behind them.  They were so isolated that he had to wonder if an explosion would even be seen or heard from that far away.  Their adversaries had chosen the spot well.

 

To make matters worse, upon leaving the dacha, Trant’s men had isolated Stannis’ team members.  Davos had gone in one car with three guards, Gendry in another, and Stannis followed in the trailing car with Lannister and Trant.  They were being kept apart for a reason, to prevent them from doing just what they’d planned to do ─ overpower their guards.  Stannis knew that even the superior training of his team in hand-to-hand combat would offer little advantage given the situation.  This was quickly turning into a suicide mission, and none of them had signed on for that.  He couldn’t even take satisfaction from the one thing that had gone according to plan that afternoon.   He’d observed Sansa departing the dacha with Melisandre and Baelish, and she’d been carrying the valise that Davos had rigged with explosives.  Davos had managed to slip it in with the other luggage undetected.  Instead of being pleased, the very thought of Sansa carrying a suitcase full of enough C4 to blow half of the building in front of them to smithereens, left him feeling as if there was a rock in the pit of his stomach.  He wondered where Sansa was now and how she was holding up under the pressure of her assignment.

 

As if reading Stannis’ mind, Tywin Lannister turned to him.

 

“Comrade Baelish and his party should be arriving shortly, and it appears that Comrade Slynt’s security detail is late.”  Lannister fixed the general with a cool stare that clearly indicated his displeasure.  “Do you know any reason why this should be so, General Trant?”

 

“Nyet.  The man is unreliable, but it is of no concern.  I have men enough to finish the job,” Trant responded.  “More men will arrive soon on train.”

 

After exiting the vehicle, Stannis saw Davos ahead of him, near the staircase.  He tried to catch his eye, but Trant was already shouting at his men to usher the Americans inside.  Stannis heard the approach of a truck before it was visible.  He stopped in his tracks as the headlight beams rounded the corner of the building.  The truck rumbled to a stop near the loading platform.    
  
“That will be your transportation,” Tywin said.

 

Trant walked over to greet the two men who had exited the vehicle, leaving the engine idling, a cloud of exhaust billowing from the tailpipe in the bitterly cold evening air.  He spoke in Russian but Stannis understood that he was ordering the men to remain in the truck.  They complained loudly, no doubt thinking that it would be warmer inside the building, but obeyed his orders and returned to their seats in the cab.

 

“Shall we?” Tywin asked, forcing Stannis to stop examining the area and move toward the stairs.

 

Inside the building wasn’t any more welcoming than outside.  There was a small office at the far end and the rest appeared to be used as a storage facility with crates piled near one wall.  The concrete floor was covered with muddy boot prints and trash.

 

“Now we wait,” Tywin announced.  Looking around, his expression betrayed his distaste for their surroundings.  He raised an eyebrow and met Trant’s gaze.  “General, if you please?”

 

It happened before Stannis could react.  Trant raised his hand in a signal.  The guards flanking Stannis drew their weapons, pointing them directly at his chest and leaving no mistake that if he so much as twitched it would prove to be a fatal mistake.  A quick glance in Davos’ direction confirmed that he had been detained as well.  Gendry must have made a threatening move and was quickly brought to one knee by the swing of a rifle butt.

 

“Now, gentleman,” Tywin said flatly, as if he were ordering a drink.  “If you would please hand your weapons to the general, we will make this as painless as possible.”

 

Stannis had no choice but to obey, slowly removing the Berretta from its holster beneath his coat and handing it to Trant, butt first.  Mentally he cursed himself for not anticipating that Tywin would act so quickly to incapacitate them.  Still, he tried one last time to maintain his cover.

 

“What is the meaning of this, Lannister?” He barked, his expression grim.  “I thought we were about to do business together.”

 

Tywin released a heavy sigh.  “Come now, Mr. Baratheon, I think it’s time that we stopped playing games.  Our business dealings are at an end.   As you know, I’m well aware of your true identities and the reason you’ve come to Belarus.  Unfortunately, your plan has failed and you and your colleagues will not be returning to America.”

 

Stannis said nothing because there was nothing to say.  Lannister was right.  Despite all of their planning the mission had been doomed to fail from the beginning.  Baelish and Lannister had been one step ahead of them all along.  Stannis briefly wondered if his feelings for Sansa had blinded him to the truth. Had his judgement been impaired enough for him to lead his team into this trap?  As if on cue, the door opened and Baelish entered, followed by Sansa and Melisandre, with Mandon Moore bringing up the rear.  Any hope Stannis had left for an escape drained from him like the blood from his face when he saw that it was Baelish and not Sansa who carried the valise.

 

“Ah, Comrade Baelish, I see you’ve decided to join us at last,” Tywin sneered.  “This is more than I can say for your city security detail.  No matter, General Trant has the situation well in hand.  I trust that everything went according to plan at the bank?”

 

Stannis studied Petyr’s face as he took in the fact that the Americans had been subdued and now had weapons pointed at them by their guards.  There was something strange in Baelish’s expression that Stannis couldn’t quite decipher, almost as if Baelish were anxious.  Stannis tried to catch Sansa’s eye but she kept her focus on Petyr.  Melisandre was the only one who glanced briefly at Stannis.  He noticed a sudden movement of her hand, a quick crossing and uncrossing of her fingers that was so subtle that if he hadn’t been looking right at her he wouldn’t have seen it.  It was a signal.  She was warning him that something was about to happen.

 

“All went smoothly, Minister,” Petyr replied.  “The rail car has been diverted and should be here shortly.  We saw the lights of the engine approaching as we arrived.”

 

“Good.  Everything is falling into place,” Tywin replied with a nod.  He turned to General Trant.   “Now, if you would be so kind, General.  Lock the Americans in the office.  We have no further use for them.”

 

Trant’s men quickly complied, prodding Stannis and his men at gunpoint.  When one made a move toward Melisandre, Tywin intervened.

 

“Not her.  She’s with us.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Davos growled.

 

“Melisandre is intelligent enough to know that it’s better to be on the winning side.  She’s been informing us of your plans from the beginning,” Tywin explained coolly. 

 

“She told us about the case full of explosives that you gave to Alayne,” Petyr added.  “I’m holding it for safekeeping.”

 

“You bitch!” Davos spat, his face red. 

 

A guard shoved him hard, nearly knocking him to the ground.  Davos managed to maintain his balance and offered no further resistance as he entered the doorway, followed by Gendry and Stannis.  The office was dimly lit, with no light except what filtered in from outside through a small window high up on the wall.  The room was empty save for a wooden desk and filing cabinet.  Stannis and his men turned to face Tywin and the others who remained outside.  Tywin turned his attention to Trant again.

 

“You may also put Comrade Baelish and his niece in with them.  I regret to say that they’ve also outlived their usefulness.”

 

Petyr couldn’t hide the expression of surprise on his face as his eyes widened.  “How can you say such a thing, Minister?  Surely you are aware of my connections in Moscow.  We had an agreement!”  His voice cracked from tension on the last word so that he sounded like a teenager going through puberty, as the guards closed around him, weapons drawn.

 

Stannis’ gaze shot to Sansa, who appeared frightened, but not too distressed.  Her eyes met his briefly, but she quickly looked away.  Melisandre was the only one besides Lannister who appeared calm.

 

“I know we had an agreement, but I’m afraid that for our plan to work, we need a scapegoat.  You are perfect for the part.  I’ll take that.”

 

Tywin removed the valise from Petyr’s hand as the guards ushered him into the office.  Stannis took a step back to make room for Baelish.  He was listening to Lannister closely, trying to figure out where this was leading and how he could use it to his advantage.  If only he knew what the devil Melisandre was up to.

 

“I don’t understand,” Petyr whined.  A sheen of perspiration had appeared on his pale forehead despite the cold temperature in the building.  “Baratheon and his team are your scapegoats.  They are the “German terrorists” who will take the blame for tampering with the nuclear waste.  That is what we discussed.”

 

“Yes, obviously,” Tywin said shortly.  “But the foreign criminals had to have a contact on the inside; someone who could give them access to the waste.  That was you, Comrade.  You used your niece as a go-between and she was seen in public with Baratheon.  You are the perfect corrupt government official on which to place blame.  Even better, your high-level contacts in Moscow will be blamed because of their association with you.  The trail of corruption leads to you, they won’t be looking for anyone else.  I will be rewarded for my part in exposing your scheme.”

 

Tywin turned to Sansa, stopping her before she could enter the doorway.  “My only regret is that there wasn’t time to enjoy the company of the lovely Alayne to the fullest.”  He lifted her chin with his gloved hand, forcing her to look at him.  “Although, marriage was never an option.  However beautiful you are, My Dear, you don’t have the proper breeding to marry a Lannister.”

 

Sansa jerked away from his touch and stumbled through the doorway into Stannis’ waiting arms.  

 

Tywin sniffed his disapproval.  “I suspected that you had been tainted by Baratheon.  I see my instincts were correct.”

 

He gestured to the guards and barked, “Lock them in.”

 

“Wait!” Stannis exclaimed, placing a hand on the door, causing one of the guards to cock his weapon threateningly.  “I can’t believe that you’re just going to lock us in here and leave.  What’s the rest of the plan?  What are you going to do with the explosives?”

 

Stannis thought if he could keep Tywin talking, it would give them more time.  Once they were locked in, their options would be severely limited.

 

Tywin held up a hand, motioning for the guards to wait.  His blue eyes gleamed with excitement.  The smug expression on his face told Stannis that he was enjoying this, his moment of victory.

 

“I thought it would be obvious.  I can’t let you live and take the chance that you’ll talk and someone in authority will believe your story.  You’ve handed me the solution in this bag.”

 

“We won’t betray you,” Petyr interjected.  “We can still make a deal.  I’m sure there is a solution that will benefit us both.”

 

Tywin shook his head.  “It’s too late for deals, Comrade Baelish.  As for the rest of the plan, the threat of a nuclear accident is one thing, but an _actual_ nuclear accident is quite something else.  Considering what happened to my wife, I feel that it would be fitting for my revenge to come in the form of another nuclear accident.  I intend to detonate your own explosive device near the rail car containing the barrels of waste.  The explosion should be of sufficient force to disperse thousands of liters of dirty water and also to destroy this building.  The disaster will be on the front page of Pravda.  The communist officials in Moscow will not be able to bury the story this time.”

 

“But the waste will leak into the groundwater ─ the entire water supply of Minsk will be contaminated.  What about the people ─ the children, the elderly?” Sansa asked, her voice trembling.  “How can you do something so horrible?”

 

Tywin merely stared at her as if she were asking him the time of day.  “I shouldn’t think it would matter to you.  You won’t be here to see it.   Although there will certainly be a mass evacuation until the spill can be contained.  Now, I really must leave you.”

 

The door slammed shut with finality and Stannis heard the grating of metal as heavy bars were drawn and bolted over the outside.  Clearly this room had been used as a jail cell in the past.  They would not be breaking the door down to escape, though Gendry and Davos immediately sprang to work, examining it for weaknesses.  Stannis’ thoughts were interrupted by the screech of metal wheels braking on the track outside, and the thrum of a locomotive engine.  The rail car had arrived.

 


	19. Chapter 19

 

Sansa’s mind was racing.  She couldn’t process everything that had happened in the last few minutes.  She wanted to be reassured by Stannis’ presence and his arm around her, but at the moment she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to the comfort of his touch.  She refused to accept the fact that they would die here in this cold, dark place.  She couldn’t let that happen, at least not before she learned the truth.

 

“I’m going to look around for something to help us get out,” Stannis told her tersely, before leaving her side to search the room.  

 

She was actually grateful because now she was left alone with Petyr.  She hadn’t spoken to him since the late afternoon drive to Minsk.  They’d arrived at the bank when it was about to close.  She and Melisandre had entered together, and Petyr had remained in the car with the guards.  She had immediately discovered that what Petyr and Tywin had told her earlier that day was a lie.  Melisandre had taken her hand and reassured her in a low voice that she was working for Stannis despite what Tywin may have said, and that Sansa should play along.  There wasn’t time for her to explain everything, but Sansa trusted her.  

 

Sansa felt foolish in her fur hat and sunglasses, very Audrey Hepburn.  But the bank officer had been all too eager to assist the two glamorous women, even though it meant staying open late.  Melisandre had instructed him to make the wire transfer.  However, Sansa noticed that the account number was not the one that Petyr had given her.   Soon after the transaction was complete, another officer approached and informed her that she had received a phone call.  Melisandre spoke briefly into the receiver but Sansa couldn’t hear what she’d said.  Then they were back in the car and headed for the rail yard.

 

Despite the desperate circumstances, Sansa’s thoughts on the trip had focused entirely on Petyr.  Ever since the realization at the cafe that he alone had been responsible for her parents deaths, she had wanted desperately to confront him.  She wanted to hear him confess it, to tell her the truth.  But there was more to it than that, not only did she want to confront him ─ she wanted to kill him.  Toward that end, she’d brought a gun.  At the dacha, when everyone was making preparations to leave that afternoon, in the midst of all the activity she’d managed to slip a handgun into her purse.  The guards had a stockpile of weapons being loaded into their cars.  She’d been shocked at the amount of firepower they’d brought with them.  A simple distraction had been sufficient to procure one.  Even though she was armed, she’d wondered whether or not she’d have the nerve to pull the trigger, when or if the time came.  It seemed the time was now.

 

“All of this is your fault, you spoiled little bitch!” Petyr snarled, unleashing his anger on her before she could open her mouth.  “If you’d obeyed my instructions, instead of spreading your legs for Baratheon, we’d be on our way to Moscow right now.  I could strangle you with my bare hands, but we’ll all be dead soon anyway.  Tywin Lannister doesn’t make idle threats.”

 

Petyr’s outburst earned an angry look from Stannis who turned to face him.

 

“Listen Baelish─”

 

Before Stannis could intervene, Sansa pulled the pistol from her purse and pointed it at Petyr, holding it with both hands.  Her hands were shaking, despite her best efforts to still them.  She hadn’t had a pill since that morning and her withdrawal symptoms had returned with a vengeance.  She swallowed hard to staunch the bile rising in her throat.

 

“Strangle me?  Is that how you killed my mother?  Tell me why Petyr.  You were supposed to be her friend!  Why did you kill her?”  Tears born from years of frustration spilled from her eyes, blurring her vision.

 

Petyr stared at her incredulously, the sneer frozen on his face and then Sansa was shocked when he started to laugh.

 

“Alayne, after all these years you’re still as ignorant as the first day I took you from the orphanage.  Why on earth would I be afraid of that gun you’re holding when we are all about to be blown to pieces?  You have no power over me, you never will.”

 

“Sansa.  My name is Sansa Stark!” Sansa snapped, her voice cracking as the gun went off.   

 

She hadn’t meant to pull the trigger, but the tremors in her hands must have caused her finger to spasm.  The sharp sound was deafening in the small room.  Petyr yelped in pain, his hand flying to his ear as the bullet grazed him.  The bullet hit the wall and ricocheted, producing a pinging noise as it bounced off the stone and buried itself in the desk near Stannis, who had instinctively dropped to a crouch.

 

Davos, was closest and took a step toward her, but panicked, she trained the gun on him.

 

“Don’t!”

 

Petyr had sunk to the floor, cursing, his hand covered in blood.

 

“Sansa.”  Stannis spoke calmly, his voice soothing.  “Give me the gun.”

 

“Please,” Sansa’s voice was calmer now, although her heart was pounding in her chest.  She pointed the gun at Petyr once more.  “I want him to say it.”

 

“You heard the lady,” Gendry growled, placing a foot on Petyr’s kneecap and pressing down hard, causing him to cry out again.  “You can die painlessly in an explosion or I can make your life a living hell for the next few minutes.  Your choice.”

 

“Fine!  It doesn’t matter.  You’re all insane!” Petyr shouted, trying to pull away from Gendry, but he was pinned.  “Your father was a fool, just like you.  When I discovered that he was spying for the British I offered to make him a deal that would make us both rich.  I would keep his secret and in exchange he would share information that I could sell to anyone willing to pay.  He refused, so I had him arrested and was rewarded with a promotion.”

 

“What about my mother?  Why did she have to die?”

 

“I loved Catelyn.  I would have married her and raised you and your brother as my own,” Petyr’s voice lost some of its venom as his eyes met Sansa’s.  “I could have given her, and you, much better lives than your father could have.  But she insisted on investigating the circumstances of his arrest, asking questions she shouldn’t have asked.  When she began to suspect my involvement, I had to act.”

 

Sansa felt fresh tears wet her cheeks as his voice grew soft.  

 

“She barely struggled.  It was over with quickly, she didn’t suffer.”

 

“I hate you,” Sansa hissed, her hands tensing.  “You took everything from me.  You ruined my life!”  

 

“Ruined your life?  I gave you everything!” Petyr exclaimed, staring at her in bewilderment.

 

Sansa closed her eyes.  This was it.  She could end it all now and avenge her parents with one squeeze of the trigger.  Suddenly she heard Stannis’ voice close beside her.  She hadn’t realized that he’d approached as she’d been so focused on Petyr.  

 

“Sansa put the gun down.  You don’t want to do this.”  He placed a gentle hand on her wrist and she allowed it to remain there, steadying her, but not trying to force her arm down.

 

“Yes I do.  You don’t understand, Stannis.  I have to.  He has to be punished for what he did.”

 

“He will be,” Stannis said.  “But not like this.  Remember what you said about the ending of High Noon?  You wondered if it haunted Amy for the rest of her life when she killed a man.  This will haunt you, Sansa.  Don’t let his death have power over you.  He isn’t worth it.”

 

Sansa considered Stannis’ words and realized that he was right.  She no longer wanted to kill Petyr, although she still loathed him.  Knowing what had happened to her parents and why, had brought some measure of closure.  She felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest, although she still felt ill from the strain she’d been under.  She allowed Stannis to remove the gun from her trembling hands.  He immediately tossed it to Davos before folding Sansa into his arms and pulling her close.  She suddenly felt weak and cold, shivering in his embrace.

 

“Everyone get behind the desk,” Davos ordered.  “I’m going to try and shoot the hinges off the door, or at least weaken them.  The bullets will ricochet.”

 

Gendry immediately turned the heavy desk on its side and Stannis led Sansa behind it, directing her to crouch down.  Petyr made no effort to move from the floor, seemingly defeated.  Sansa covered her ears as the shots cracked out in rapid succession.  When it was over, Gendry and Davos began to work on the door again.  To Sansa’s untrained eye, the bullets didn’t seem to have done much damage.

 

“How long do we have?” Sansa asked.  She and Stannis had moved away from the others, to a far corner of the room and she melted against him, clinging to him in what could be their last moments together.

 

“Not long I should think,” he said softly.  “Tywin will most likely have the truck moved as close to this end of the building as possible, because the fuel in the tank will magnify─”

 

“Stannis,” Sansa interrupted, her voice breaking.  “I don’t want to talk about Tywin or the details of...not now!”

 

“No, of course not,” Stannis murmured, kissing her forehead.  “I’m not very good in these situations.  Well, I suppose I’ve never actually been in this type of situation before.”

 

“What do you mean?  As an agent, you must have been in dangerous situations many times before.”

 

“Yes, but not with someone…” his voice trailed off as he met her gaze.  Sansa saw that he was struggling to tell her something.  He looked more anxious now than he had when he’d been talking about their impending deaths.  “These past few days have been difficult, but they’ve also been some of the best days of my life, because of you.  What I’m trying to say, and making a mess of it, is that I love you, Sansa.  No matter what happens─”

 

“I love you too!” Sansa exclaimed in an emotional whisper, cutting him off.  Although she’d known it in her heart for some time, she hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear him say it until she heard the words.  Her arms snaked around his neck, determinedly pulling him close so she could kiss him soundly on the lips.  If she was going to die, she would die in the arms of the man she loved.  For the first time that day, she felt at peace.

 

“Do you hear that?” Davos asked, causing them to become aware of their surroundings once more.  “Listen!”

 

Sansa listened intently and was surprised to hear the roar of several truck engines approaching.  There was the sound of men shouting and the rhythmic crunching of boots running on gravel.  She flinched reflexively as horns blared and several shots were fired.  What was happening?  Were these the rest of Trant’s men arriving, or was it something else?

 

Soon there was the distinct sound of footsteps climbing the metal stairs outside and entering the building.  There were people rapidly approaching the office where they were being held.

 

“Stay behind me,” Stannis ordered, placing himself between Sansa and the door.  Davos and Gendry positioned themselves on either side of the doorway, ready to attack anyone who entered.

 

“Stannis, it’s me!”  Melisandre’s voice greeted them from the other side of the locked door.  “Stand down!”  

 

Davos and Gendry backed away as the metal bolt was withdrawn and the door pulled open.  

 

Sansa was shocked to see Melisandre standing beside none other than Janos Slynt!  Several men that she recognized as Trant’s, and a few others that she didn’t recognize, were with them.

 

“Comrade Slynt,” Petyr said, getting to his feet and smiling.  “I see you’ve come to sort out this terrible misunderstanding.  Minister Lannister must be placed under arrest at once, along with these foreign criminals.”

 

“Arrest that man,” Slynt ordered, pointing to Baelish.  Petyr was quickly surrounded and taken into custody.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” Petyr whined. “We had a deal. You can’t do this!  I’m on the Central Committee!  This is an outrage!”  His cries were ignored as they led him away.

 

Sansa tensed, waiting for Slynt to have them arrested but they were simply ushered from the room.

 

“We meet again, Comrade Stone,” Slynt commented, scowling as she passed.  “Unfortunately, my orders are only to arrest Comrade Baelish, though I doubt that you or your companions are _innocent._ ”

 

He gave Stannis, whose hand rested on Sansa’s back, a cold stare before following his men out of the building.

 

Stannis faced Melisandre.  “What took you so long?” he quipped, although Sansa wondered if he was really joking.

 

Melisandre smiled.  “Let me introduce you to Chairman Paukovich of the Central Committee in Moscow.”  

 

Stannis shook hands with a bald man dressed in a surprisingly fashionable long coat and fur hat.  He looked like a typical European businessman rather than a high-ranking communist party official.  Stannis noted that the name Paukovich, loosely translated to, son of spider.  He’d heard Melisandre use the nickname before.  He knew instantly that this must be Melisandre’s contact, Varys.

 

“In Moscow, we’ve had our eye on Minister Lannister for quite some time,” Paukovich said in perfect English.  “The KGB has taken an interest in his business dealings.  He will be sent to the gulag for this unfortunate act of treason.”

 

“What will happen to the rest of us?” Stannis asked bluntly.

 

“You are guests of the Soviet Union,” Paukovich answered, with an enigmatic smile.  “You are free to go.  I hope that our governments can do business together soon.  There is too much tension between us these days, don’t you agree?”

 

From the way he spoke, Stannis knew that he would be expecting payment in some form.  Thankfully, that decision would be out of Stannis’ hands.  He wondered if he would still have a job when he returned home.

 

“We should leave quickly, “Melisandre urged.  “The soldiers are attempting to deactivate the bomb as we speak.”

 

She led the way with Chairman Paukovich, followed by Gendry and Davos.  

 

“I don’t know if should rescue you after the way you spoke to me,” Melisandre teased, turning to look pointedly at Davos.

 

“It was a nice touch don’t you think?” Davos said with a grin.  “I never doubted you for a moment.”

 

Stannis and Sansa were halfway to the exit when Sansa stopped abruptly.

 

“My purse,” she said, frowning.  “I left it in the office.”  She lowered her voice so that only Stannis could hear. “It has my pills.”  Her heart began to pound irregularly, reminding her once again of the fact that she hadn’t taken a pill since that morning.

 

“I’ll get it,” Stannis said, immediately turning around.  He had nearly reached the door when it was if an invisible hand had reached out and jerked him backwards.  Sansa’s ears popped painfully from a sudden change in pressure and she felt herself propelled backwards.  Her head impacted the floor and instantly everything went black.

 

~~~

 

Stannis awoke slowly, as if a dense fog were lifting from his brain.  As his vision focused, he glanced around the room.  Everything appeared drab and gray.  He looked down and realized he was lying in bed with tubes attached to his arm.  He was in a hospital.  He took a deep breath and immediately felt pain.  It seemed that everything hurt, but especially his head.  He moved his hand to touch it and felt bandages on one side.  At the same time he noticed the smell of smoke.  He focused his attention on his surroundings once more and saw Davos sitting in a chair near the door.  He was reading a newspaper, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

 

“Are you trying to kill me with secondhand smoke?” Stannis croaked.  His throat was so dry his voice was hoarse.

 

“I think he’s awake,” Davos announced, stabbing out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.  In a moment Stannis was staring at the concerned faces of Melisandre and Gendry.  None of them appeared injured, other than a bruise on Gendry’s forehead.

 

“Sansa?” he asked anxiously, as his muddled brain suddenly remembered the explosion.  Sansa had been standing behind him and now he didn’t see her with his friends.

 

“She’s fine,” Melisandre said quickly.  “She lost consciousness for a few minutes but made a full recovery.  They have her isolated on another floor right now, treating her for the drug addiction.”

 

“I want to see her,” Stannis demanded.  He felt an enormous sense of relief that she had survived the blast but was still concerned for her, struggling through the symptoms of full withdrawal.  He tried to rise but instantly realized that his injuries were too severe for him to walk.  A stabbing pain shot through his head, followed by a wave of nausea.

 

“Hold on,” Davos place a hand on his shoulder.  “You’re in no shape to go anywhere right now.  You were closest to the blast.  You’ve been in a coma for two days and you’ve had surgery to remove some metal shards from your shoulder and leg.  Give yourself some time to heal.”

 

“Besides,” Gendry added, grinning, “there is a floor monitor who won’t let anyone in or out.  She looks tougher than any prison guard I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Okay,” Stannis snapped, annoyed with having to keep his distance from Sansa for the moment.  “I’ll stay put.  I don’t have much choice.  At least fill me in on what happened, and help me sit up damn it!”

 

Gendry gave the handle that controlled the bed position a crank, raising Stannis’ head while Davos began to explain.  Melisandre handed Stannis a cup of water from a nearby tray.

 

“Lannister had the bag of explosives placed near the rail car, and as we suspected, he had the truck parked between the rail car and the building.  The combined explosion would have incinerated everything, but the soldiers were able to move the truck before the bomb went off.”

 

“Wait,” Stannis interrupted.  “Back up.  I want to know what Melisandre did to get Varys involved.”  


“Due to my previous inquiries about Tywin Lannister, I suspected that Varys would be taking an interest in his movements,” Melisandre explained.  “When I was at the bank, I sent the wire transfer to an account that I knew from past dealings with Varys, was monitored by his people.”

 

“A signal?” Stannis asked.

 

“Yes,” Melisandre continued.  “A signal alerting him that something was up.  I immediately received a phone call and notified them of our destination.  I left it to Varys to do the rest.  Based on my past dealings with Tywin and Petyr, it was easy enough to convince them that I was working for them.”

 

“What, no apology for not tipping us off about that?” Davos asked, only half-jokingly.

 

“That information was need-to-know,” Melisandre countered, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Then I can assume that when you left with Lannister, Varys arrived to arrest him just in time?”  Stannis asked.

 

“Varys called ahead to Slynt, who decided that he’d rather obey the officials in Moscow rather than Comrade Baelish.  He called in the city patrol, and as soon as Trant’s men realized that Lannister was being arrested, they fell in line too.  There were a few shots fired but not many casualties.  Sandor and Moore were both wounded, but they should recover.”

 

“Lannister surrendered without a fight?”

 

“Yes.  He refused to say a word to Varys.  He’ll be joining Baelish in the gulag, but I don’t know how long he’ll stay there.  With his wealth and connections, I’m sure he’ll bribe someone to help him escape.  I don’t think we’ve heard the last of Tywin Lannister.”

 

Stannis nodded, and then winced when the movement caused his head to throb.  “But what about Trant?” he managed to ask.

 

Melisandre chuckled.  “General Trant tried to talk his way out of being arrested.  He claimed that he had placed Lannister and Baelish under surveillance as well, and was just about to arrest them himself.  He was quite convincing.  If I hadn’t known the truth I would have believed him.  It will be interesting to see who buys his story during his court martial.”

 

“So that’s the end?  The mission is complete,” Stannis said thoughtfully.  Then his eyes widened.  “Hold on.  What about the nuclear waste?  Did the explosion cause a spill?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Davos replied.  “Varys had the actual train with the nuclear waste diverted before it reached the rail yard.  The rail car that showed up at the siding was a decoy.”

 

“Good.”  Stannis breathed a sigh of relief.  After everything that had happened, the mission had been a success for the most part.  The only failure had been Varys involvement and the obligation it had created for their government.  But lives had been saved, and that was the greatest measure of success.  Stannis felt a sense of satisfaction for a job well done, and without losing a member of his team.

 

The only loose end that remained was Sansa.  He only wished he could speak with her.  He would be counting the hours until that was possible.

 

As if reading his thoughts, Melisandre spoke.

 

“I did ask Varys to try and find out what happened to Eddard Stark in the gulag, in case there was any hope that he still survived.  Sadly, he was executed as a traitor shortly after his arrival there.”

 

“I suspected as much,” Stannis said.  “The truth will hurt but at least Sansa will know for certain.”

 

“There is good news regarding her brother,” Davos added.  “Robb Stark has been living in Zurich.  He’s tried to contact Sansa over the years but we can only assume that Baelish was intercepting his messages.  Maybe they can get in touch now.”

 

“That is good news,” Stannis said.  He was happy for Sansa, imagining the smile on her face when he told her.  He couldn’t wait to see her again.  Then he would ask her again, the question she’d refused to answer when they were in bed together at the dacha.  He would ask her to leave with him.

 

“I suppose this is goodbye,” Davos said.  “Gendry and I have been given another assignment.  We’re leaving on the next flight out.  It’s been a pleasure working with you again.”  He gently shook Stannis’ hand and patted him on his good shoulder.  “Until next time.”

 

“Thank you, Sir,” Gendry said, shaking Stannis’ hand.  “I’ve learned a lot.”

 

“I’ll be going too,” Melisandre added, kissing Stannis on both cheeks.  “But I’ll be in later to check on you and to give you an update on Sansa.”

 

“I want to thank all of you, for everything,” Stannis replied, his heart suddenly heavy at the thought of them all leaving.  This was always the most difficult part of every mission.  “I intend to recommend each of you for superior service awards.”

 

Before anyone could leave, a nurse appeared at the door.  She was one of the largest women Stannis had ever seen, with enormous biceps and calves.  She looked like a wrestler, with her bulk squeezed into her nurses’ uniform, with her white cap, skirt and stockings.  Her nametag read, Nurse Unella.  Still more terrifying, she wore a stern expression and held a pan containing water and a cloth.

 

“Gubka vanny,” she growled in Russian; which to Stannis’ horror, loosely translated to “sponge bath”.

 

Davos snickered and said, “Excuse me, Madame,” before fleeing with Gendry right behind.  Even Melisandre was smiling as she left Stannis alone to his fate.

  
“Shit,” Stannis cursed under his breath.  Even his advanced spy training couldn’t protect him from a nurse on a mission.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter pretty much wraps up all the spy stuff. However, there still needs to be some face time between Stannis and Sansa. Stay tuned for that. I hope to post those chapters in the next two days. To everyone who has read, and/or left comments and kudos, they have been much appreciated and have made my day! You are all the best!


	20. Chapter 20

**Wednesday, 22 December, 1965 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

Stannis knew that he was dreaming.  It _had_ to be a dream because it was too good to be true.  He’d been stuck here in this hospital bed in Minsk for over a week, a virtual prisoner, with only the severe nurse Unella for company.  He hadn’t been granted permission to visit Sansa for even a few minutes.  Only now he was dreaming that Sansa was with him in his bed, her silken hair caressing his cheek, her soft lips pressing warm kisses all over his face and neck.  He could even hear her sweet voice whispering against his ear.

 

“Stannis, wake up.”

 

His eyes fluttered open.  The only thing better than dreaming that Sansa was in his bed, was Sansa actually being in his bed.   Even in the dim light, she looked like a goddess brightening his dull, drab room.  He had a million questions for her, but before he could open his mouth she silenced him with a kiss.  Not just a regular ─ I’ve missed you ─ kiss, but a kiss with enough heat to make his toes curl.  Sansa’s mouth was greedy, and he closed his eyes, savoring the taste of her as a starving man would savor a spoonful of honey.  She lay on top of him in the single bed, and his hands were drawn to her hips, immediately discovering bare flesh beneath her hospital gown.  She’d already removed her panties.  He didn’t think he’d ever become hard so fast in his life as he pulled her firmly against him.  

 

“Wait,” he gasped, as they both paused for a moment to breathe.  “What about the nurse?”  

 

He didn’t want to imagine the reaction of nurse Unella, were she to walk in and find them copulating.  Siberia was warmer than that woman’s disposition on a good day.

 

“Melisandre gave me chocolates and perfume for bribes,” Sansa whispered, as her fingers traced the bandage on his head.   The stitches had been taken out and only a small dressing remained.   Thankfully the IV had been removed from his arm as well.  “We won’t be disturbed.”

 

She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he hesitated.  “Sansa, I’m still recovering.  I’m not sure that I can…”

 

“It feels like you can,” Sansa teased, grinding her pelvis against his erection, causing him to emit a low groan.

 

“No, I mean I can’t move very well.” He wasn’t sure how to explain that the missionary position was out of the question at the moment, especially in this tiny bed, but Sansa seemed to understand his misgivings.

 

“Then I’ll do most of the moving.”  Sansa’s arched eyebrow and playful smile indicated that she was teasing him again, as she paraphrased his words from their first two times together.  “Tell me if I hurt you.”   From her position astride him, she captured his full attention as she reached behind her neck and untied her gown, letting it fall open to her waist, exposing her breasts to his lustful gaze.

 

Stannis admired her beauty for a few moments as she swept her hair behind her shoulders to give him a better view.  His erection swelled, reminding him that there was still a blanket and gown that prevented him from being inside her.  Tossing her gown to the floor, his hands returned to her body, squeezing her ass once more before gliding upward over the swell of her hips and the length of her waist, before cupping her breasts.  It was Sansa’ turn to groan.  It was clear that she enjoyed his touch very much.  When he paused a moment, marveling at the way her supple flesh filled his hands so perfectly, she grew impatient and placed her hands over his own, demonstrating how she wanted him to fondle her.  He adored the sounds she made as he kneaded her gently, her nipples hardening from the friction of his palms.  Closing her eyes, she continued to shamelessly grind herself against him, causing his hips to thrust expectantly.  He wanted to bury himself inside her so badly it hurt.

 

He tried to lean forward, wanting to take one of her luscious nipples into his mouth and feel it pebble against his tongue, but the movement caused him to wince in pain.  

 

“I’ll do the moving, remember?” Sansa whispered, her voice husky with desire.  “You need to ask for what you want.”

 

Stannis’ face was already hot with lust, and his cheeks reddened even further thinking about giving Sansa verbal instructions on how to please him.  It wasn’t as if he’d never talked “dirty” to a lover before, but with Sansa it was different.  He still thought of her as an innocent in the bedroom, and he was the older, more experienced man, who was corrupting her.  Admittedly, he had come to find that scenario to be quite a turn on.  Now, she was the one in control and that too was proving to be incredibly arousing.  

 

“Hmm, well, I ─” he hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit foolish.

 

“Speak up, don’t be shy,” Sansa encouraged.  She leaned forward so that her breasts were an inch from his face, knowing full well what he wanted, but forcing him to ask for it.

 

“I want to suck on your nipples,” he whispered. Although his lips twitched in a sheepish half-smile, his eyes begged her to grant his request.

 

“I think I’d like that,” Sansa purred, closing the distance between them.  They both sighed with pleasure as his tongue made contact with the swollen nub and his mouth closed around it.  

 

“Stannis,” she gasped as he sucked hard enough to cause the peak to stiffen, then allowed his teeth to graze it as he let it go.  One hand moved between her legs, his fingers seeking out her folds and finding them slick with moisture.  Sansa pressed down against his hand, trying to obtain the friction she craved, and Stannis obliged, inserting one finger, then two inside her.

 

Sansa’s moaning became louder as he continued to suckle her breast, and finger her at the same time.  When his thumb found her clitoris and he began to rub it gently, she sat up straight, pulling her breast from his mouth.

 

“Oh,” she gasped, the movement of her hips increasing as she continued to use Stannis’ fingers to get herself off.  He nearly came then from the sight of her above him, her lips parted, crimson cheeked, and a few stray damp hairs sticking to her forehead.  He knew she was close.  He wanted to touch himself to get some relief, but the way she was straddling him made it impossible.

 

“Sansa, please!” he groaned in desperation.

 

Her glassy-eyed stare came back into focus as she leaned forward again, and a sly smile graced her lips.  “Please what?” she asked softly, her eyes widening in mock innocence.

 

Stannis growled low in his throat.  He wanted nothing more than to flip Sansa onto her back and mount her roughly.  Her teasing was killing him!  But he knew his body was in no condition to make that happen, so he was forced to play along.  He was at her mercy.

 

“I want ─ no I _need_ ─ you to take me inside you, now!”  He wasn’t sure if he sounded more desperate or mean, though he realized his answer seemed like an order.

 

Sansa didn’t take offense, and moved to obey, though still more slowly than he wanted.  She moved the blanket that covered his legs aside, and bunched his gown up to his waist.  Stannis bit his lip, trying not to vocalize his pleasure too loudly when Sansa traced the outline of his thickened shaft through the thin cloth of his boxers.  He made an embarrassing whimpering sound when she finally teased his boxers down to his thighs, freeing his straining erection.

 

“You feel so good,” Sansa cooed, stroking him gently, as if petting a cat.  Stannis closed his eyes, on the verge of begging.  Although her hand felt wonderful, he needed much more contact than her delicate touches.

 

“Sansa─” he pleaded.

 

But he needn’t have bothered.  He could tell from her impatient expression that she was as ready as he was.  Taking his cock in her fist and straddling him, Sansa guided him to her wet entrance and slowly sank down.

 

“Fuck,” Stannis groaned as he felt himself tightly enveloped by her hot, slick flesh.  His hips pressed against her, attempting to push himself even farther inside.  She made a delicious whining sound as she impaled herself on his stiff member, undulating her hips in order to accommodate his length until she was fully seated.

 

“Oh, Stannis,” Sansa whispered thickly, clearly enjoying this new position and the feel of him sheathed inside her.

 

It took them both a moment to adjust, Sansa taking more weight on her arms and moving slowly up and down, but soon she was riding him more forcefully, creating the delicious friction that they both craved.  He was mesmerized by the gentle bounce of her breasts as she rode him, now convinced that Sansa being on top wasn’t such a bad thing after all, in fact it was incredibly arousing.  He wanted to prolong this encounter, in order to enjoy it to the fullest, but their long separation had heightened his desire for Sansa to such an extent that he knew he couldn’t stave off his release indefinitely.  From the look of bliss on Sansa’s face, and the increasingly desperate sounds she was making, he assumed she felt the same.  Stannis grasped her hips, encouraging her to move faster as they both approached climax.

 

Stannis gave a final thrust and his release overtook him, causing him to tighten his grip on Sansa’s hips as a groan was ripped from deep within his chest.  He was dimly aware of Sansa gasping his name as she reached her peak and spasmed around him, grinding against him with a force that was nearly painful.

 

Afterwards, she collapsed against his chest, her hand snaking beneath his gown, her long fingers absently caressing his stomach.  He wanted to stay like that forever, feeling her damp forehead against his neck and kissing her silken hair in the soft afterglow of lovemaking.  He knew that they had much to discuss but he couldn’t seem to get his mind to focus.  At least now they would have time he thought, as he allowed himself to drift.

 

~~~

 

“Am I hurting you?” Sansa asked, trying to give him more room in the narrow bed.  She was laying partially on him, petting his chest as she rested her head on his shoulder.  “I feel terrible that you were almost killed trying to get those stupid pills for me.  I was worried sick about you.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stannis replied.  He must have dozed off for a moment. “It wasn’t your fault.  And no, it doesn’t hurt.  It feels nice having you close to me.  How is your treatment going?  They wouldn’t let me visit you.”

 

“It was difficult at first, but now I feel so much stronger than I did a few days ago.  I think the worst is over.  At least I hope so.  I should go now, the nurse on my floor will expect me back before her shift changes.”

Stannis felt his eyelids closing.  He wanted to drift off again but this time his mind kept nagging him that there was something he needed to speak to Sansa about that couldn’t wait.  Suddenly he remembered.

 

“Sansa, I have news about your brother, Robb.  He’s alive and living in Zurich.”

 

“I know,” Sansa replied.  “Melisandre was able to intercept a message from him before the censors had their way with it.  He wants me to move to Switzerland to live.”

 

Stannis studied Sansa’s face and was confused.  This news should have produced a huge smile, but instead she looked sad.  Melisandre must have also told her about her father.  Perhaps that was the reason for her blue expression.  Stannis was fully awake now, realizing that this was the chance he’d been waiting for.

 

“I can get you out of Belarus.  You could visit Robb in Zurich and then, if you want, you could come live with me.”  Stannis studied her face expectantly, but her frown only deepened.

 

“Stannis…” she said hesitantly.  His heart felt like lead at that moment, because he knew then that her answer would be no.

 

“I would marry you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said quickly, though he knew he sounded desperate.

 

“It isn’t that,” Sansa replied.  “Oh, Stannis.”  He saw tears welling in her eyes and she quickly raised her head and kissed him, a wet, trembling kiss.

 

“I love you.  I want you to know that.  I’d marry you in a second if I thought that was what you really wanted.”

 

“I _do_ want it,” Stannis said defensively.  He’d asked her hadn’t he?  Why was she being so difficult?  Did she really think that he wasn’t being sincere?  “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

 

Sansa wiped her eyes and met his gaze.  “What kind of life do you’d imagine us having?  Would you quit your job?”

 

Stannis paused, contemplating her question.  He hadn’t considered quitting his job.  “I hadn’t thought about it.  Would you want me to?”

 

“I couldn’t stand waiting for you at home while you traveled to dangerous places and put yourself at risk.  I’m sorry, but I have to be honest.”

 

“Of course you do.  Then, yes.  I’ll quit my job,” he said emphatically.

 

“And then, I’m afraid when the next nuclear crisis or terrorist threat is reported in the news, you would want to go, to do your duty.  I’m afraid that you would resent me for keeping you at home.”  Sansa looked away.

 

“No, I could never resent you,” Stannis protested, touching her face.

 

“It isn’t just that,” Sansa continued.  “I love my country, despite its faults.  I’ve never known another place.  I don’t know if I would be happy leaving.”

 

Stannis didn’t know what to say.  She was twenty years younger than him and it seemed that she had thought this through much more carefully than he had.  He, the man who was known for remaining emotionally detached during his decision making, had allowed his heart to run rampant over logic.  

 

“Varys has offered me a job,” Sansa said softly.  “Petyr’s position on the Belarusian Central Committee.  It’s a great honor, since only one other woman serves.  He even wants me to maintain contact with the CIA, for reasons he won’t disclose.  I’m certain that he will monitor my activities, but it would give me a chance to do my duty, to help make my country better.  In a way, you and I would be working together,” she said,  looking at him hopefully.  He could see that this was something that Sansa really wanted, and that she wanted his approval in order to be happy about it.

 

Stannis experienced a sudden flash of anger.  He didn’t want her to be happy without him, damn it!  He thought that Sansa needed him, and the reality was that she didn’t need him at all.  He thought that she would be leaving with him and now his hopes for a future with the woman he loved were being crushed.  The pain and confusion must have shown on his face because before he could reply, she was touching his face and forcing him to look at her.

 

“This has nothing to do with the way I feel about you.  I love you more than I could have ever imagined loving someone.  I think that the problem is, we’re too much alike.  For most of my life I couldn’t wait to leave here, and now after everything that has happened, I know that I have to stay.  I hope you understand.”

 

“I understand,” Stannis said at last, with a heavy sigh.  “I don’t like it.  But I understand, and I want you to be happy.  My ego is just a bit bruised, but I’ll recover.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” Sansa attempted a smile, but it was fleeting.  “Maybe the Cold War will end sooner than we think and then we will be free to see each other as much as we want.”

 

“Wishful thinking, but that’s one of the things I love about you.  Despite the hard life you’ve lived, you are still an optimist.  I’m going to miss that.”  Stannis took her hand and squeezed it, trying not to let his sadness show on his face.  He didn’t want to make this harder than it was, for Sansa’s sake.

 

Sansa was quiet for a moment, but then she perked up.  “I think they won’t be releasing us for another few days yet.  At least until after the holidays.  We can spend our remaining time together doing our part to end the Cold War.”  She kissed his lips, lingering long enough to slip him the briefest hint of tongue in invitation.  “I think we owe it to our countries to do our duty.  Don’t you agree?”

 

That brought a slight smile to his face.  She was right, there was no reason for them not to enjoy the time they had left together.  No one could predict the future.  He had never imagined that he would find love on an assignment behind the Iron Curtain.  There was still a chance the two of them would meet again someday.

 

“I agree completely, Comrade Stone,” he answered in Russian before kissing her soundly.  There was no such thing as a straightforward assignment, but some assignments were better than others.

  
  
The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I will miss spy Stannis and Sansa. Epilogue to follow because I can't just leave you wondering ;)


	21. Epilogue

**Wednesday, May 1, 1968 - Minsk, Belarus**

 

“Comrade Hardyng asked if you would allow him to be your escort to the May Day parade this afternoon, Comrade Stone.  What should I tell him?” 

 

Sansa scowled at her assistant, Comrade Poole ─ Jeyne.  That was the second time this week that Hardyng, the newly appointed Central Committee member, had asked to escort her somewhere.   She understood that his invitations were more about socializing than networking.  She knew that she should be flattered to be pursued by such a young and handsome bachelor, and yet she felt nothing but irritation at his presumption that she would want to date him.  Didn’t he realize that she was spoken for; that her heart belonged to someone else?  No, of course he didn’t, because Stannis wasn’t here.  Stannis hadn’t been here in over two years.  Aside from the occasional message relayed through Melisandre, they hadn’t been in contact in all that time.  Still, the thought of dating another man made her stomach turn.  She wasn’t ready.

 

“I’m not certain I’ll be attending the parade this year,” Sansa replied, dismissively, rearranging a stack of papers on her desk.  

 

“But you’ll be expected,” Jeyne argued.

 

That was true.  Sansa knew she couldn’t get out of it, even though the May Day parade had become an excuse for a disgusting display of Soviet military prowess.  She didn’t want to go, but as a member of the Central Committee, it was required that she put in an appearance.  Her absence would be noted, and it would cause suspicion.  She couldn’t afford to attract that sort of attention.  Not now, when Varys was using her as a back channel for the Soviets to negotiate with the Americans.  Anything that was too sensitive to discuss in a public, political forum, Varys funneled through Sansa to American Intelligence.  Even though she was simply a messenger, she played an important role in keeping the Cold War climate cold, and she was proud of the fact that there had been no threat of a nuclear incident between their two countries in the last two years.

 

“You have to move on sometime.  You are too young and beautiful to stay single forever,” Jeyne added.

 

Not only was Jeyne her assistant, she was her friend.  Now that Sansa could have friends, she appreciated that someone cared enough to chastise her for living like a recluse.  She’d confided to Jeyne that there had been someone, a foreigner in Minsk on business, and that the affair had ended abruptly.  Sansa hadn’t disclosed any of the actual details.  She could never tell her the truth because Jeyne was also being paid to spy on her.  That was life in the Soviet Union.  Sansa knew it, understood, and didn’t hold it against her.

 

“I know.  It’s just too soon,” Sansa sighed.

 

Jeyne nodded and remained standing in front of Sansa’s desk for a moment.  “Will you need me for anything else, Comrade?”

 

Sansa realized then that Jeyne was waiting for her permission to leave early for the parade.  She had been seeing a young soldier, Theon Balonovich.  He would be marching with the other soldiers and she probably wanted to wish him luck.

 

“You may go, Jeyne.  And give my best to Theon,” Sansa said, smiling.

 

“I will,” Jeyne replied, her face beaming with excitement.  She started to leave but then turned in the doorway.  “I forgot.  The new American ambassador is coming by to introduce himself.  He will be attending the parade as well.  Perhaps if you go with him, Comrade Hardyng won’t bother you ─ if that’s what you wish.”

 

“New American ambassador?  What happened to the old one?” Sansa asked.

 

“Ambassador Rosby took ill.  I think he passed away after he returned to the United States.  Anyway, they sent another one.”  

 

Jeyne was out the door before Sansa could speak, in a hurry to meet her boyfriend.

 

“Wait,” Sansa called after her.  “What’s his name?  What time is he arriving?”

 

There was no reply.  Jeyne was already gone.

 

Sansa frowned.  She wasn’t in the mood to entertain another tedious old man either.   Rosby had made her cringe, always coughing and wheezing as if he had the plague, and more boring than anyone she had ever met.  Although she knew she should feel sad at his passing.  She allowed herself a moment of reflective silence, then shook her head.  Jeyne was right, at least this ambassador’s presence might prevent Hardyng from flirting with her.

 

She retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and was standing near the window where the light was better to touch up her makeup, when she heard the tap of knuckles on the wooden door frame.  When she turned to look, her purse fell the the floor with a thud as her limbs went slack from shock.  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move and couldn’t think, as she stared into the vivid blue eyes of Stannis Baratheon.

 

“The woman downstairs seemed to be in a hurry.  She told me to just come up,” Stannis said.  His expression was all business, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement and delight.  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Comrade Stone.”  His lips quirked into a slight smile.  “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other I should think.  I’m the new American ambassador to Belarus.”

 

Sansa was confused.  He was talking.  Why was he talking and not kissing her?  Why was he calling her Comrade Stone instead of Sansa?  She took one step toward him, tears of happiness welling in her eyes when suddenly she remembered that they weren’t alone.  Even though she had an office, it wasn’t actually that private.  The door was usually open, as it was now, and even when it was closed the occupants of the outer office area could see in through the glass pane.  Although most of the office workers had already left for the festivities, a few remained at their desks in full view of Sansa and Stannis.  What would they think if they saw her kissing the new ambassador?  She would have to pretend ─ but what?  Her mind raced.  What was her relationship to Stannis supposed to be for appearance’ sake?  

 

Luckily Stannis came to her rescue.  Crossing the distance between them he took her hands.  It was if an electric current flowed through his fingertips and into her skin.  She tingled all over as he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

 

“You look beautiful, Alayne,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her on both cheeks.  His lips lingered just enough for her to feel his desire for her.  She could sense how difficult it was for him to refrain from kissing her lips.  She knew that it was killing him as much as it was her.  “I enjoyed our time together when I was here on business.  Has it really been two years?”

 

Of course, Sansa thought as her ability to concentrate returned.  Two years ago, she and Stannis had been seen around town under the guise of a foreign businessman and his mistress.  Anyone who knew their true identities was either a spy themselves or in the gulag.  They didn’t have to pretend not to know each other, in fact they could actually be seen together.  They could pick up right where they’d left off, although Jeyne would probably not approve.  Sansa couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

 

“Yes it has.  I’ve missed you,” Sansa whispered, so only Stannis could hear the depth of emotion behind those words.  Stannis continued to hold her hands, gazing into her eyes as they examined each other carefully for the first time.  Sansa could see a tinge of gray hair at his temples, and a few more fine lines around his eyes, but they only served to make him look more handsome.  She wanted nothing more than to reach out and unbutton his tailored suit jacket, wrap her arms around him, and squeeze him tightly.  Sadly that would have to wait until they were alone.

 

Sansa’s smile was absurdly broad.  She didn’t think she would ever stop smiling again.  “Please come sit down and tell me how you came to be the new American ambassador,” Sansa said, pulling him into the room and closing the door.  They could still be seen, but if they kept their voices low, at least they could have a few private words together.

 

“How have you been?” Stannis immediately asked, taking a seat across the desk from her.  “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you.”

 

“I think I do,” Sansa laughed.  Then her expression turned serious.  “I’ve been well, aside from missing you.  What are you doing here?  I didn’t want you to give up your career for me.  I asked you not to as I remember.”

 

“I know, and I didn’t exactly.  It was time to give up being a field agent.  I was getting slow and indecisive, which can get an agent killed.”  Stannis frowned thoughtfully.  “I suppose that before I met you, I didn’t have anyone who cared about me.  I had no one to come home to, and so the risks I took didn’t bother me.  The last few missions I’ve spent too much time thinking about you, and being too cautious.  I’m not blaming you, just being honest.  It wasn’t the same, so when this job became available, I pushed hard to get it.”

 

Sansa beamed.  She would have squealed with delight if it were at all appropriate.  Instead she bit her lip briefly in order to maintain her composure.  “You said you didn’t exactly quit though.  Do you still have to go on missions?”

 

“No,” Stannis replied.  “The American ambassadors in the U.S.S.R. are usually spying for our government.  I believe that you know that.  The KGB certainly suspects us all.”

 

Sansa’s eyes widened as she remembered something Varys had told her.  If she needed another way to contact the CIA she could always try the American embassy.  “Yes, of course.  I suppose that’s true.”

 

“Let me take you to dinner tonight.  We can go to the Hotel Europa again, for old times’ sake.”  Stannis’ eyes had darkened and the way he was looking at her made her cheeks flush with heat.  “Maybe this time we could get a room?”  He quickly added, “I don’t want to presume too much, so tell me if that makes you uncomfortable.  I know we’ve been apart a long time.  I haven’t even asked if there was ─ well, if you’d met anyone else.”

 

“No!” Sansa said, shaking her head, a little hurt that he could even think such a thing.  “There hasn’t been anyone.  No one but you.”

 

“For me either,” Stannis added.

 

“Nothing would please me more than to dine with you tonight,” Sansa answered softly, meeting his gaze.  But something made her hesitate.  She wanted to be happy but surely this was too good to be true.  After over two years of pining for Stannis, happily ever after couldn’t be this easy.  Nothing about their relationship had ever been easy.

 

“We can’t just begin dating in public, spending all of our free time together.  We’re both being watched.  It will arouse suspicion and you could be deported at any time.”

 

“Yes, of course we will be watched.  What makes it so perfect is that the KGB will think you’re doing your duty by attempting to get information from me, and the CIA will assume I’m keeping tabs on you.  We’re both spies.  We’re supposed to be monitoring each other.  Nobody, except for Melisandre that is, will know that we are really just two people in love.”

 

Sansa wanted to believe him but she had to be certain before she allowed herself to abandon her heart fully to Stannis.  “Granted, you make a good point.  Still, your position is temporary.  Won’t you be replaced in a few years, as soon as your administration changes?  I can’t lose you again, Stannis.”

 

“You won’t lose me,” Stannis said emphatically.  He reached over the desk and touched her hand briefly, before pulling away for the sake of anyone watching.  “I won’t leave you again.  I promise.  If I lose this job, I’ll find another position ─ a translator or aide to the next ambassador.  I’m willing to stay for as long as you’ll have me, or until you decide you want to leave the country.  I want to marry you, Sansa.”

 

She felt tears welling in her eyes again, tears of happiness.  Stannis must have thought he had made her sad because he looked at her in alarm.

 

“You don’t have to decide right now.  I─”

 

“No─ I mean ─ yes.  I’m crying because I’m happy ─ so very happy,” Sansa interrupted, wiping her eyes.  “Yes, I’ll marry you.  Whenever we figure out a way.  Until then, I’ll continue to pose as your mistress.”

 

“Some will think you’re seducing me and some will believe I’m corrupting you,” Stannis replied, the tension gone from his voice.  Sansa saw that the twinkle in his eyes had returned.  “We’ll be fodder for gossip in the social circles of Minsk.  Are you ready for that?”

 

Stannis took her hand as she rose from her chair.  She gathered herself and stood close to him, raising her chin boldly and staring resolutely into his blue eyes.  “We may as well begin now.”

 

“Whatever do you mean, Comrade Stone?” Stannis asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I mean, Ambassador Baratheon, to welcome you properly.”  

 

With that, Sansa kissed Stannis soundly on the lips in full view of anyone who might still be lingering in the office.  If she had to pretend to be Alayne indefinitely, she could at least enjoy the role.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really the end this time. I hope you all find it satisfying after I gave you angst with the last chapter. Thank you again for all of your kind words and support. You made posting this fic a joy!

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any incorrect descriptions I give regarding Soviet Russia or Belarus. I'm relying on my Soviet politics class I took years ago, one trip there in 1990, and google.


End file.
